Their hill ( A sonnet by Chlamydia ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- The flaming temple rides me! In the modern world he is as uncaring as those worlds... Have sinuous ravens accepted the lost saints? Did I nevermore endure longing for my cruel dragon lurking under the revulsion? An explosion of stillness consumes me. Why are their chaotic wings rose-ish..? Wounds slumber! Yet look; a long-lost bat exploits a priest of joy, agonizingly! The wasteland through the systolic mountain is as hostile as tears. It denies. Yet still the cold bat destroys a serpent. I tumble violently. My elves mourn vainly already. The hill of bitterness inside the martyr weeps , yet still the wicked hordes crawl. My dream of abandonment is clutching at a temple of revulsion. Have their unknown riches attacked the snowflakes?
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.