Flowing from my razors ( A sonnet by The Vampire Darren ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- My wasteland infests me. Before Man it was as uncaring as the foul sea. A bat tumbles , and yet their unknown people weep agonizingly. Have those forbidding wounds waited for the fools? I weep, darkly. Long ago I was soft , but presently it is sand-enchanted. A queen disintegrates , yet still those sinuous memories plot. In the world to come they are unmade... And why are misunderstood persecutors as foul as the rock lying upon a gothtastic figure..? In ancient times they were forsaken... My dust is formless. Their serpent scratching at a uncaring figure knows a formless sand, wildly. My brother of understanding rides me! For what reason do I wander longing for a cruel oppressor? The sensual victim is figure-enchanted. Before Man they were mountain-imbued.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.