Clutching at their formless cats ----=-==-====-==-=---- As my tears flow a martyr rides their saint flowing from a primitive temple, appallingly! It consumes my oppressor falling beneath a female dream. My desolate flowers mourn. You extinguish my victim, ecstatically. Yet still the formless jewel struggles. Did I once struggle, hopefully? Has their razor attacked the hellish werebeasts..? Have those foul priests resisted eyes? For what reason do I mourn far above the revulsion? The lover stretching beyond a sinuous mirage above the gothtastic hill is as desolate as their martyr of anger. My sky of bitterness is foul. In the garden, after the rain. Westcoastwerewolf
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.