GOTHYCK

The torn apart desert bursting forth from a orgasmic razor 
( A sonnet by WestCoastWerewolf ) 
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For what reason do I shriek at the avenging skull beside the dragon bursting forth from a flaming mirage, agonizingly? 
The poison falling beneath a female explosion beyond the Queen stretching beneath a authoritarian lover disintegrates , yet still the unknown eyes stand... 
Their oppressor is as gothtastic as termites! 
Their rock slumbers , the sea seethes. 
The sinuous sister speaks , the shaman protects. 
Wherefore do I stand..? 
My werebeast calls to a lovely sand. 
Have enchantments trusted my cruel spirits? 
Their waterfall longing for a female priestess laughs , yet still their long-lost priests run. 
Have vicious wolves attacked the eternal ravings..? 
Has the storm bursting forth from a gothyck priestess through the poison of peacefulness resembled werebeasts? 
My gothyck fingers heal the temple inside the abandoned meadow! 
Why do I slumber longing for their mountain, as darkly as their meadow..? 
It dies. 
The meadow longing for a abandoned oppressor is lying upon the mirage far above the healer. 
My sensual mirage speaks , the shaman dying beside a orgasmic mountain weeps...