His head buried within the breasts of a lunatic
full, though aging mounds they were
he pretended to weep, but sighed in relief
much to the motherly joy of her
She lifted his face from her chest with her hands
and prayed on his last ditch desire
let's take a match, to this, my husband's house
and warm ourselves in the fire
At last he thought, at last a chance
to vacate my dismal past
but the beautiful lunatic's mind was mercurial
her fire lust did not last
it switched to flesh lust
she stripped herself and opened her sheets to him
he spun in his shoes, gambling to lose
a tremble, throbbing and grim, oh
He was not the last to quit her as he retired to his room
for she came calling, all a-shiver
stood over him in the gloom
her nakedness hovered and steamed in the cold
a threatening glow on her scarred corpus
how, he thought, has she gotten so old
and balanced this wisdom and imbalance, hey