Skeletal fingers grip an oblong stone
Cords of tendon thin muscles stiffen
A jaw set with determination
Eyes glassy and feverish

Another chuckles, circling like a carrion crow
It grips their lover's hand warmly
And sighs down at the starving man
“you'll never squeeze any blood from that dry stone”

The words uttered, shatter his resolve
He curls into that common dying pose
And waits for mercy's final blessing.