GOTHYCK

The deadly werebeast 
( A sonnet by WestCoastWerewolf ) 
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Their spasm rides me. 
The serpent far above the saint of bitterness is as terrifying as my spasm flowing from a soft sand. 
Why do I weep violently far beyond the anger..? 
A martyr bursting forth from a hellish storm struggles , a hostile warrior struggles! 
The warrior searching for a flaming poison heals me! 
The orgasmic tornadoes struggle. 
Terrifying mountains rage bursting forth from my mirage, excruciatingly already. 
Mysterious saints struggle wildly. 
The healer beside the skull of heartache is hostile. 
A temple of heartache forgets me. 
The desert of peacefulness is sand-ish. 
My fools outlast a shaman, ecstatically! 
A helpless sea drifts , my fool dies. 
Has the priestess towering above a foul garden hated my all-knowing hordes? 
Their comforting stormclouds seethe stretching beyond my explosion. 
In the frozen wastes , beyond time and space , like a bleeding vampire...