Murder Hornet Fursona

This photograph is a misprint

A psychographical error

Uncanny valleys hold distance

What do you see looking back at you?

He is the thorn in my side

The prick in my hip, a stick in my bundle

Reacharound across the aisle

Whose pearls you clutching now?

Should these carpenter bees

Want nothing about me

What's left to say over concrete

Engraved to rest atop me

From the hoarse throat that befalls me?

Extract the shards from your soles

Bloodied crossing scenic shores and scorching coals

Lovely contortions, knees bend to their line of sight

Ah, now you itch for the scratch

Which lies just past the periphery

If you are what you eat

I'm more man than you'll ever be

How else could I stomach

The next fuck to remind me?

Whose pearls you clutching now?

Whose pearls you clutching now?

Whose pearls you clutching now?