Hart Butter

Comfort in madness. 

Yet never a comfortable madness in friends who smile and extend a hand, same such they extend to him, a pudgy acid-hearted maggot boy.

So perk up, like the strong olfactory sensation of coffee percolating, or the sizzle of meat fat in a fry pan, it's the uncomfortable that keeps all creatures sane.

For what would woodland harts be without the nearby ravine and the mountain lion prowling?

Comfortable.

And insane.