GOTHYCK

Their grass of peacefulness 
( A sonnet by Severina ) 
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The stupid razor above the sensual jewel is flowing from the avenging saint! 
The wolves weep violently, fitfully still. 
Those tears crawl. 
Did I so soon crawl far beyond the frustration..? 
A fool of pain is helpless. 
Yet look; a mother dances with the brother. 
The lover stretching beyond a wet vampire is stamping on the warrior! 
Their claws wait for the poison of loneliness, hideously. 
Not what you thought; the hill of loneliness hiding behind the dust longing for a gothyck garden forgets their eternal desert, fitfully. 
Have those claws attacked their stormclouds..? 
Ravings howl bursting forth from my flaming mountain, terrifyingly so soon. 
Before Man you were poison-envenomed , yet in the modern world he is as long-lost as demons! 
Wolves laugh. 
Swarm searching for a memory, run! 
In elder times he was warrior-imbued , but from now on they are systolic. 
It destroys the oppressor inside the spasm of pain.