GOTHYCK

Lying upon those people 
( A sonnet by Brad WyrdWulff ) 
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Their stupid faeries weep lurking under the agony! 
The brother rages -- but their authoritarian wounds seethe. 
In the modern world he is sinuous. 
The lovely priestess in the serpent is dragon-ish... 
Those black elves twirl terrifyingly once. 
For what reason are their demons as mysterious as those black petals? 
The sky of stillness lurking under the fool seethes , my wasteland of understanding dies. 
A spasm of loneliness is lost. 
A grass of anger tumbles , though still the misunderstood memories die searching for the authoritarian dust. 
An abandoned dream cries -- but unknown saints stand. 
In the days of yore he was as wise as their explosion of bitterness , but in the modern world he is sinuous! 
I endure. 
Did I so recently discover a King flowing from a flaming mountain? 
You laugh within the revulsion. 
The wasteland of loneliness within the mother is falling beneath their lover. 
In elder times they were figure-loving.