She was there
Beneath the
Forlorn thing
Festering
With a cold
Enchantment.

He came along the foreign path
And beneath the forest passed
The pregnable puddle of blood, flesh and bone.
He was tired by experience and exploration.
Beside the new night and beneath the looming sky
He knew
The horrendous days when women would befriend or end us.

It was irreversible once he begun.
Both were broken once he was done
And his hollow soul felt no completion.
His act leaving only a cavity.

There was a crooked man, and he walked a crooked mile,
He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile;
He bought a crooked cat which caught a crooked mouse.