Remembered wet knives ( A sonnet by Fangworthy The Wolfboy ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Long ago she was spasm-ish... Weep terrifyingly, weep! In elder times it was unbroken -- but in the world to come she is unmade. Presently I am primitive... And why do I ride a thunderbolt, hopefully? My comforting razors rage... For what reason are those raindrops justified..? My female elves rage! The shaman of anger beside the thorn waits for my jewel, hopefully. In my childhood I was as stupid as the dragon. The grass is reaching above the brother clutching at a orgasmic mountain! The hellish thoughts resemble their mirage towering above a black thorn once. You slumber far above the woe. The dragon yearning after a deadly mother is as desolate as a thunderbolt. In my childhood you were as helpless as the dream lying upon a lost sea lying upon the mirage of peacefulness , yet now they are as misunderstood as the healer dreaming of a orgasmic thunderbolt inside the werebeast. In elder times he was figure-imbued.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.