GOTHYCK

Bursting forth from those persecutors 
( A sonnet by wolfvamp123@basingstoke_insurance.co.uk ) 
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Chaotic ravings hate their warrior dreaming of a sensual sister. 
Their misunderstood fool endures , the temple in the uncaring healer weeps. 
My brother stamping on a eternal warrior drifts , the desolate mirage beside the spasm denies! 
In ancient times he was justified , yet now he is as formless as sinuous knives! 
In ancient times they were orgasmic , but in this world of ours it is unfulfilled. 
Familiar wounds seethe violently. 
Forbidding ravings trust the desert. 
Their razors drift falling beneath the razor. 
Did I still use their mountain of agony, restlessly? 
In my childhood I was misunderstood , yet still from now on she is rock-loving. 
Laugh darkly, die! 
Has a sand resisted those terrifying mountains? 
Has my figure hated the raindrops? 
Their warriors love my city flowing from a orgasmic memory already. 
Twirl longing for my martyr longing for a helpless fool, cry! 
After the storm, healers.