Your creamy hot cocoa bathes my body in dreams. My waking nightmare is a prickly Rose and Celestial Z. Truth I seek for 70 years. Now, truth, it looks for me. Think my friends maybe die – they not lucky like Ho – stink in some trashcan. I meditate – be fearless, save friends with Angry Chicken kick or take bullet. Maria, I know truth want them, too, even if they go crazy like bat in house of mirrors.
But, can I trust anyone? I look into eye of man, see soul, or fire, or empty. Sometime, his eye just want one more cookie with cute note. I call out to Void – long time for echo now. Scared I will never cross hay-covered floor and sniff your foamy broth. If send for you, come. Say you Biff Flexington lover – he will pay. No cry, Biff loves shoe selling man more than most women, if you know what I mean.