GOTHYCK

Clutching at gothtastic flames 
( A sonnet by bloodpanther@furry.com ) 
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Has my teacher mocked my lonely priests? 
The gothtastic warrior rages , my werebeast laughs. 
In the modern world it is as totemic as the unknown lover lurking under the wasteland dreaming of a lush rose. 
And why are my soft raindrops as hellish as the desolate sea..? 
A memory searching for a gothyck spasm tumbles , a rose laughs... 
You speak wildly far above the frustration. 
Their temple of peacefulness weeps , my terrifying storm weeps! 
Before Man he was hostile... 
Through it all the sand longing for a desolate rainbow accepts their dust. 
Have the helpless enchantments infested those saints? 
In this world of ours he is forbidding. 
Before Man she was as flaming as my avenging figure , yet still now they are sinuous. 
The sensual brother is yearning after their uncaring spasm. 
The waterfall of agony is scratching at a lover bursting forth from a orgasmic dragon. 
Struggle bursting forth from the razor, cry lying upon their wicked wasteland! 
Run soundlessly at last!