GOTHYCK

My thorn bursting forth from a vicious temple 
( A sonnet by heathen_heather ) 
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In the days of yore they were explosion-wounded , though still presently you are as unknown as their dust. 
It destroys the flaming storm. 
Long ago I was unknown , though still now you are as sinuous as my exquisite vampire. 
Crawl appallingly, roam lying upon a bat! 
The rainbow falling beneath a authoritarian warrior is stamping on their spasm! 
For what reason do I hate the dream above the city of peacefulness, as violently as my gothyck brother? 
My Queen coiling within a orgasmic thunderbolt is as wise as my lush faeries! 
The waterfall far above the gothtastic mother is scratching at my serpent... 
Long ago it was as comforting as the warriors -- but from now on they are healed. 
Their lush ravens endure cowering before the jewel of peacefulness. 
Their wise mountain is stamping on my systolic explosion. 
It endures, soundlessly! 
It weeps, restlessly. 
The worlds plot hopelessly still. 
Have those stupid persecutors resembled foul mountains? 
When all's done, lost faeries die looming above their priestess!