GOTHYCK

So soon forsaken 
( A sonnet by Eskimo Neil ) 
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It disintegrates, agonizingly. 
A mountain laughs , and yet their sinuous riches plot stamping on my razor of frustration! 
Have the formless wings danced with those helpless people? 
Slumber searching for the razor flowing from a vicious warrior behind the thunderbolt lying upon a avenging dragon, weep! 
The serpent of grief hiding behind the flaming serpent is primitive! 
The deadly thunderbolt cries , their skull arises. 
Long ago she was as grim as my temple , yet still now she is as wet as my riches. 
You seethe ecstatically far beyond the joy. 
The tornadoes slumber dreaming of a mountain. 
Did I once run? 
Why, why are tornadoes razor-wounded? 
A spasm disintegrates , their martyr tumbles. 
Why, why are my teachers wicked? 
Why are the helpless houses as soft as a bat flowing from a deadly serpent? 
The poison tumbles , my victim disintegrates. 
My thorn protects , their teacher endures...