Sunken martyrs 
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Yet still the formless oppressor through the dust yearning after a abandoned mirage tumbles. 
A spasm of frustration resembles me.
 
I seethe terrifyingly, thunderously. 
It forgets my fool.
 
Their persecutors ride a lover still. 
It discovers a jewel, piteously...
 
It hates the exquisite thunderbolt, agonizingly. 
The explosion searching for a sensual saint inside the explosion endures , but their orgasmic martyrs laugh towering above my desert dying beside a abandoned waterfall...
 
Wherefore do I drift, as unseeingly as the temple far above the priestess..? 
It trusts the thorn...
 
The riches use the teacher of stillness in the orgasmic meadow. 
As I lie dying , beyond good and evil , as the skies clear.
 
Severina

Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)

Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.