Latophagis, you’re a savage race,
deemed to be preserved for posterity,
poisonous but always effervescent
& always glossy. But I feel sad and cold,
so rescue me into your divine grotto.
Hold me tight like a kitten
and whisper a valium-song
into my medulla-oblongata.
I badly need some of your serotonin punch. Buddy-Love,
give me some liturgical allegro opium,
teach me how to laud the Creator Magnificato.