GOTHYCK

The waterfall longing for a lovely garden lurking under the rainbow 
( A sonnet by Goth Grrl ) 
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Their hostile explosion feasts on the priest. 
Endure, run clutching at their temple! 
Wherefore are those fingers authoritarian..? 
In the days of yore he was as long-lost as the wasteland... 
Why indeed are my lovely children as chaotic as their eternal thunderbolt? 
The bat far above the werebeast is as forbidding as their claws... 
The soft eyes run, thunderously so soon. 
Now it is as formless as the unknown memory... 
And yet the rock laughs. 
It reveres my gothyck warrior... 
The fool of revulsion far above the storm speaks, agonizingly. 
It reveres the skull in the victim! 
But softly; the brother looming above a systolic desert beside the oppressor speaks. 
Did I so soon surrender cowering before my hellish meadow, smilingly? 
The mysterious spasm behind the exquisite King crawls, as restlessly as the dust flowing from the saint stretching beneath a misunderstood poison. 
In endless darkness a victim is bursting forth from the hellish priest.