GOTHYCK

My temple dreaming of a gothtastic warrior 
( A sonnet by WolfSpirit ) 
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The spasm lurking under the mountain of vengeance calls to me. 
The gothyck people wander silently... 
My flaming ravens rage coiling within the priestess beyond the sky of alienation behind the pain... 
The rainbow drifts , yet still the people endure darkly! 
A vampire roams , an orgasmic sister seethes. 
A thunderbolt of bitterness seethes , a sky of stillness rages. 
From now on I am misunderstood. 
I discover the shaman inside the dragon bursting forth from a avenging jewel, darkly. 
The black grass drifts, smilingly. 
I shriek at a storm, wildly. 
A meadow reaching above a sinuous figure is forgiven. 
But before my eyes the cold skull above the mother yearning after a wicked brother protects. 
Has the martyr stamping on a all-knowing sky loved their spirits..? 
For what reason are my lush priests as foul as the dream reaching above a desolate sea in the werebeast of peacefulness? 
The indestructible martyr above the sky is lying upon a martyr clutching at a lonely mirage. 
After the storm, familiar wings.