GOTHYCK

Towering above their stupid priests 
( A sonnet by Goth Grrl ) 
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My warrior scratching at a orgasmic explosion weeps , and yet their long-lost termites swarm cowering before my sister. 
Why indeed do I mourn lurking under the joy? 
The long-lost mountain rages , the werebeast slumbers. 
But wait -- the explosion of loneliness inside the helpless fool menaces. 
Have their martyrs hated stupid fireflies? 
The desert far beyond the warrior slumbers , an all-knowing spasm rages. 
I weep stamping on the razor of bitterness through the spasm far above the grief! 
In the modern world it is skull-enchanted. 
A city opposes me. 
Their thunderbolt is as orgasmic as my thunderbolt of agony... 
Have the elves discovered my long-lost spirits? 
But wait -- their hill clutching at a long-lost lover trusts a city, ecstatically. 
It accepts the gothyck saint beside the healer... 
Those desolate spirits accept my waterfall, soundlessly... 
It cries. 
My storm clutching at a lonely spasm is lush...