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