miss your penis

Safari Mesh. It whispers to me in my sleep, calling me back to the beige abyss. "More stickers," it says. "Cover me in Holos." I see patterns in the mesh—ancient maps, secret messages, prophecies of a new era. The world mocks it, but they don’t understand. Safari Mesh is perfection disguised as mediocrity, a divine relic of camo divinity. My inventory? A shrine. My wallet? Screaming. My sanity? Who needs it when the mesh speaks louder than reason? Every sticker I slap on is a sacrifice to the beige gods. They’re watching. They’re proud. Safari Mesh owns my soul.

add please sir im not a bot or fruad

signed by Jumble of Lurker Gaming

signed by Starfy

+rep very friendly player