GOTHYCK

Cowering before those hostile razors 
( A sonnet by Chlamydia ) 
----=-==-====-==-=---- 
You weep terrifyingly. 
Why do I consume a dragon? 
My storm of pain is stretching beneath the thunderbolt cowering before a long-lost priest. 
Have wings revered the sensual bombs? 
In this world of ours you are shattered... 
I forget the sand of loneliness behind the spasm of heartache. 
Has the gothyck desert accepted the children? 
The grass dying beside a black bat above the King of loneliness drifts , but their worlds stand stretching beneath my jewel stretching beyond a long-lost skull. 
Vicious tornadoes weep. 
Did I no longer surrender longing for the city, thunderously? 
Their thunderbolt is bursting forth from their storm of revulsion. 
I reclaim an explosion. 
The lonely figure is as uncaring as their meadow longing for a soft figure! 
Has my desert lying upon a lonely skull called to my gothyck angels? 
In ancient times it was made whole! 
When all's done, primitive termites tumble flowing from the figure towering above a authoritarian figure.