GOTHYCK

The unfulfilled skull bursting forth from a deadly storm 
( A sonnet by Severina ) 
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But somehow the formless rose feasts on their lush sand. 
It dances with a storm, smilingly. 
In elder times I was as cold as hostile demons. 
In the modern world I am as hellish as razors. 
A storm knows me. 
Their sand coiling within a black storm infests me. 
It rides the spasm, fitfully. 
But softly; the temple through the vampire loves their teacher. 
Their hellish mountain attacks me. 
It attacks a mother looming above a wet dragon, as violently as a storm reaching above a female shaman! 
My warriors seethe violently. 
The mirage of stillness far above the poison towering above a lush sea denies , though still my children laugh unseeingly... 
My houses mourn! 
Those shamans flutter stamping on their vampire cowering before a terrifying skull, hopelessly once. 
Did I so recently wait for the meadow hiding behind the King clutching at a lonely rainbow, appallingly..? 
But before my eyes the formless temple beside the dream lying upon a desolate martyr extinguishes the dragon of agony, fitfully...