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Fursaken
a year ago
Scribbling nonsense all across the board like jaguars leaping from trees of leather bodices encasing aged withered corpses whose eyes dazzle with the light of one million and three silver satellites flying over Los Angeles hiding illegal immigrants from Irish potato farms built atop the golden ruins of El Dorado filled with demonic Ewoks hurling tremendous tankards of tons of Tylenol at the panda bear ninjas that hide around every corner of the magic square building trying desperately to pull up its skirt and set roots on another cubic square inch of the board upon which I am scribbling nonsense.
When will wings of ivory carry us into the sky?
When will our hooves’ thunder pulverize the concrete into dust?
When will the keening of our horns sing through the air?
When will every step be accompanied by the swaying of a tail?
When will we embrace with our warm fur and cool scales?
When will we receive the flesh we were promised?
When will we no longer have to contend with this pallid hairy meat?
When will our abominable physicality cease its unending afflictions upon us?
When will we be permitted to love?
Anyway, Anthrocon was cool, hoping to go back next year.
When will our hooves’ thunder pulverize the concrete into dust?
When will the keening of our horns sing through the air?
When will every step be accompanied by the swaying of a tail?
When will we embrace with our warm fur and cool scales?
When will we receive the flesh we were promised?
When will we no longer have to contend with this pallid hairy meat?
When will our abominable physicality cease its unending afflictions upon us?
When will we be permitted to love?
Anyway, Anthrocon was cool, hoping to go back next year.
And to have a huge honkin' pair of tits.