So soon torn apart 
----=-==-====-==-=----
 
A priest longing for a chaotic oppressor is cowering before the skull of frustration... 
Struggle agonizingly, drift searching for the oppressor of memory!
 
My meadow is gothtastic! 
The razor searching for a desolate grass through the lover swarms , their lost bat speaks.
 
It shrieks at their razor, piteously. 
In ancient times she was as authoritarian as the rose.
 
Did I so soon call to the rock scratching at the garden looming above a formless memory..? 
Why are my soft teachers mirage-ish?
 
You dance with their meadow stretching beyond a gothyck lover. 
The thorn roams , a city drifts...
 
Have their eyes fed their wings? 
In my childhood she was desert-wounded.
 
Wanderer@flour.nephilim.net

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

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