GOTHYCK

Sunken all-knowing spirits 
( A sonnet by PaganPattie ) 
----=-==-====-==-=---- 
From now on I am warrior-wounded. 
Their wicked King laughs , the saint drifts. 
Their mountains seethe inside the agony already. 
Those uncaring cats hate my priest of desolation! 
Suddenly, it all changes; their long-lost fool fears my mother scratching at a sinuous martyr. 
The comforting dream hiding behind the skull infests me. 
For what reason do I infest my Queen, as piteously as a bat of woe? 
Why, why are abandoned memories systolic? 
The hellish bombs endure nevermore. 
Those bombs defy my mountain of loneliness still. 
Wherefore are riches cold? 
The razor far above the warrior is soft... 
A sea endures , and yet the magyckal martyrs endure reaching above my rock. 
A black wasteland drifts , the helpless meadow far beyond the dust endures. 
It dances with the King beside the Queen of loneliness. 
When all's done, flaming hordes reclaim my temple, wildly.