Flush the Lewd Art!
F(luid) Art
Adol09
A batch of fur poked through a pore serves the page a pill,
It's row of spots ferries my woe 'til posterior nerves are still
This parchment thirsts for thought; I'm parched! Where's reality?
Might I barter for insight with fluff 'til my mind (or tummy) is free?
Counting sheep is useless for sleep, but shedding this load takes work!
I never knew Feces and philosophy could make me feel so---URGGGH!
Finally! Whoo! Mom's not home yet? Guess I'll leave the seat up.


Reply With Quote
