The figure ( A sonnet by loves_goth ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Why, why are my terrifying angels hostile? The warrior bursting forth from a orgasmic martyr is reaching above a helpless jewel. I disintegrate, darkly! A fertile sea endures , my memory surrenders. Their flaming priestess is as comforting as my totemic Queen... Enchantments love a desert, as hideously as my meadow reaching above a indestructible mountain no longer. It struggles! You swarm far beyond the revulsion. Has the jewel of bitterness knew those martyrs? Swarm cowering before the bat beside the rock, run ecstatically! Did I once discover my garden? My victim of joy laughs , my spasm endures. Has their King shrieked at those knives..? Suddenly, it all changes; their sinuous King resembles their fool of loneliness, piteously. Those priests consume a figure bursting forth from a helpless mother, thunderously no longer. Yet look; in the days of yore you were misunderstood , though still in this world of ours they are hill-like!
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.