# Essence in the Fur

Author: Werefox Inari Sachi
Tags: Poetry

Breasts of the babe, touch of the fur...

It's the illusion young men chase now,

It's a look some would put on.

I'm the dreaming victim of the Essence in the Fur.

 

Hot and cold, wet nose, warm breath, slippery tongue--

And the smell of dog.

The touch of paper figments, and my dream world starts to stir...

 

I long for every chance to leave the waking world behind,

 

I look for every virtue in the humble, meek canine.

 

I don't want pets, I don't want dogs--I want a lonely lass,

Or boyish face, but every time I make a passing glance,

At the art of dreaming sorts like me, it brings me back again--

I want to wag my tail with them, and it'll _neve_r end.

 

And sometimes, I think I'd look good,

In hooves or serpent's scales,

And sometimes I want wings to fly,

Or nine kitsune tails.

 

And yeah, it gets me quite aroused, to think--

"Out there, she waiting..."

The girl with that big thing for fur,

And always--I'm debating:

 

Is this a dream of Heaven, or am I some deluded cur?

I'm yet another victim of the Essence in the Fur...

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/dePp6B9e