325.

 To The Fursan,

I will kill you. You rat, you demon, you need to be poisoned. What filth you threw at me we will throw at your tribe. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

  This is difficult. Years and years of suffering has made the possibilities of feeling peace, even in the absence of sources of agony, well nigh impossible. Am I doomed to be a prisoner of my emotions forever, unable to feel contentment because I am too busy obsessing over why I failed instead of promoting my future. I feel sad, because people have caused me inhuman harm, and simply ignoring that and living my life now is not easy, I just wanted to feel peace, and now that the possibility is here I ignore it and instead spend my time thinking as to why I have been prevented from feeling it in the past, something, which of course has no answer. All I can do is mourn, perhaps because peace is not really a fundamental human right, even though the pursuit of it is. I must remind myself that I am not strange in feeling this way, for at the end of a bloody war, who in an entire country can claim to feel immediate peace? Such a task is not human, and emotional wounds take time to heal. ...
Read more
  Strawberries and sheep dot the landscape of my brain. We want to lay a finger on your soil, but we know that we will be punished for doing so. How much longer do we have to wait, before the Palm Revolution occurs? When people who are purported to be noble have satanic hues smearing every breath they take, that is when you know that change is in order. Isn’t it ironic, that the word ‘lord’ has all but disappeared from public discourse? People are more interested in the color of the underwear of the girl next door, than in the hues of honor projecting from the will of a patriot. When will the English recover and once again and look with dispassionate staidness towards the celestial lands that now need to be conquered? You call yourselves a postindustrial society, but where is the burgeoning technology sector? It seems to be that words describing your progress are empty nomens. Yes, you are doing great compared to Niger, but the coronet of being under no one is now collecting dust. ...
Read more
Hearken! Oh mighty Windsors! Your rule has no bounds, which is why I, a humble Arab, can cast my allegiance to you, living in a oasis of blue skies and needy cats. Your scepter might be small, but it will clink the mellowest of sounds when parrying and thrusting against the papal ferula, a debate recorded for the benefit of both sides. Yes, I am a Muslim, but my prayer stone reminds me everlastingly that I worship the earth. Your angels are the wills of steel that create an invisible mesh of regularity to a chaotic world, and though Zeus conquered the titans, Hades still spreads his mist in the hinterlands of what should be thriving and bustling megalopolises. Envy you the moon? Just name a place there, and it will be populated. Strike me with lightning, for I will eke out every little morsel of effort from your people, galvanizing them into building wonders looked back upon after millennia the way Stonehenge is looked at now, which though small now, was the peak of civilization then....
Read more