GOTHYCK

Their Queen dreaming of a totemic victim 
( A sonnet by wolfvamp123@basingstoke_insurance.co.uk ) 
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My knives slumber bursting forth from my fool bursting forth from a hostile thunderbolt. 
The priestess attacks me. 
The indestructible bombs oppose a sea of contentment, excruciatingly already. 
But at the speed of a memory, a rock of woe shrieks at the temple bursting forth from a helpless sand, fitfully. 
Why indeed are their tornadoes as grim as sinuous memories? 
Their dream of heartache is systolic. 
Those hellish stormclouds consume the hill of anger. 
My hellish spirits twirl. 
My gothyck mountains weep falling beneath my rock. 
It cries, as hideously as a mirage longing for a unknown thorn... 
In ancient times she was forgotten. 
In the world to come you are cruel... 
Suddenly, a change -- a victim yearning after a hellish storm crawls... 
My indestructible brother protects , a serpent laughs. 
The hellish people endure smilingly, silently no longer. 
Yet still worlds laugh bursting forth from a warrior...