writing Mad Cow Disease

[Pan the Fabulous Ferret 2,642]

Twas the disease of an unhappy cow, an angry sort at heart and lost from within. Life, and given as such, as to be mad. Unhappy cows with glaring eyes, mindlessly grazing the flowers of monotonous colors. The disease of farewells upon roads paved with trees falling from the sky, trodden upon by the cows as they flee from the remnants of sanity. That which it was, this mad cow disease stole my family. Terrible, monstrous desires of wet, crunchy feelings, a child in pieces, singing melancholy. Singing of flowers that could no longer be found. Mad cows they are, and for it we perish as fading specks of once brilliant light, set against the dim background of spectral meaning and significance, now burning not so bright and silently in empty vacuum. The miracles of disease are the smiles, sweet and unseen by grief upon these now falling stars. The remnants of sanity, along with what I once could recall as my family, gone once more, here for eternal, magically true. As I rode upon the backs of mad cows, I yearned to be free, and set upon the lost and the lame. I was whom I see.

 

All of it… all, the mad cows gave to me.

 

-David F.

[GuillermoGage 246]

I thought that's what you were talking about in your previous status update! I was thinking, Mad Cow Disease?