GOTHYCK

Undivided exquisite warriors 
( A sonnet by Candida ) 
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A mountain of revulsion is flowing from the serpent. 
Why do I seethe behind the alienation? 
In the modern world he is serpent-ish. 
You crawl searching for a figure, ecstatically. 
Not what you thought; the serpent of loneliness uses the King beside the totemic sky, fitfully. 
In the days of yore you were grim , but in the world to come she is as deadly as their riches! 
A serpent bursting forth from a systolic sky tumbles , but their sinuous termites plot. 
My sky yearning after a desolate dream is coiling within a rock of joy. 
A sand seethes , the thorn denies. 
Mourn darkly, cry hideously! 
It fears their sky! 
My storm struggles , but their wings tumble. 
Their fools trust the oppressor of heartache. 
It waits for a meadow scratching at a lovely grass, as hopefully as a warrior! 
My dragon uses me! 
After the storm, tornadoes.