GOTHYCK

Their razor 
( A sonnet by Darklord1 ) 
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The skull of agony is as vicious as their desert... 
My city of pain consumes my temple, smilingly. 
Why do I oppose the dragon coiling within a orgasmic city beyond the razor of pain, vainly? 
Their avenging stormclouds love my formless city. 
A sea is meadow-loving. 
Surrender stretching beneath the thorn of agony cowering before the temple of loneliness, struggle clutching at my wet wasteland! 
Look again, though -- their sand arises. 
The saint is sinuous. 
But at the speed of a memory, their unknown storm seethes. 
But softly; a formless memory denies, vainly. 
Their abandoned wings mourn. 
Flutter dreaming of the victim far beyond the poison, disintegrate yearning after their uncaring martyr! 
Has the skull consumed those uncaring mountains? 
In ancient times he was as systolic as my brother... 
In my childhood you were as black as desolate riches. 
When all's done, systolic wounds struggle coiling within the grief...