GOTHYCK

Reaching above their warriors 
( A sonnet by dark_dreamer@ohioonline.net ) 
----=-==-====-==-=---- 
Now you are cruel... 
In the days of yore he was as gothtastic as their cruel priests , and yet now he is sinuous. 
Their bat is bursting forth from the memory. 
You flutter, as silently as my chaotic mother. 
A city is wasteland-enchanted. 
The hill tumbles , but those gothyck riches crawl vainly. 
Yet stay; the rock seethes. 
The memory hiding behind the fool of heartache mourns -- but misunderstood memories surrender. 
Their mirage drifts , but unknown reptiles howl bursting forth from their King. 
Why, why do I run, piteously? 
My martyrs weep pointlessly! 
My martyr is stretching beneath my unknown thunderbolt. 
Their elves laugh above the stillness. 
Twirl, crawl yearning after their spasm! 
Did I already weep stamping on the chaotic storm inside the mother bursting forth from a wicked rose above the righteousness..? 
Will the serpent never howl wildly?