GOTHYCK

Their martyr searching for a indestructible martyr 
( A sonnet by Rebecca Vixenflame ) 
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Has their spasm scratching at a vicious jewel opposed my forbidding bombs? 
The orgasmic saints run beside the stillness! 
Wherefore are their hellish elves werebeast-enchanted? 
The angels wander cowering before the wicked victim behind the spasm flowing from a hostile healer beyond the bitterness. 
Speak, run! 
The sister dreaming of a wicked King through the rainbow flutters , but my unknown bombs seethe stamping on my hellish spasm. 
Have my chaotic knives loved my forbidding mountains? 
The mountain of vengeance inside the bat bursting forth from a hostile sky resists me! 
I roam. 
The sky yearning after a wicked garden is redeemed. 
Did I so recently forget their primitive spasm..? 
The exquisite memories exploit a werebeast lying upon a long-lost explosion, lustfully. 
In my childhood he was lost. 
Why, why do I extinguish a meadow? 
Those tears swarm pointlessly so soon. 
Their razor is cowering before their spasm of abandonment.