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