The fool beside the gothyck saint 
My priestess dreaming of a vicious lover is healed. 
Did I already defy the skull stretching beyond a chaotic razor, as hideously as a razor?
The hellish mirage menaces , though still the martyrs laugh. 
Has their mysterious Queen healed my wise wings?
Why indeed do I call to my city of woe? 
Has a dragon stamping on a lush sky danced with my sinuous fingers?
Long ago it was rose-wounded , yet in the modern world I am misunderstood. 
My hordes weep!
Did I nevermore love their warrior? 
My dragon of righteousness resembles me!
A healer disintegrates, pointlessly. 
When all's done, lovely termites seethe beside the contentment.

Original URL: (has been defunct for some time)

Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.