Spinning gossimer webs around her fragile corpse.
                        As the time tries too pulls the flesh from her bones.
                             His hands reach in with grave intent.

                           Lifting her frigle corpse onto his shoulders
                        Feeling the caress of her cold skin beckoning him.

                            Lustful urges and heart felt longing,
                                  Hold him in her caress..

                         Why did she have too be taken from so early,
                          By times bitter coils foiled and spoiled.

                   Rotten and rotting,
                      He pulls away the cloths from her empty vessal...

                             Pulling her too him...
                                    Needing her once more,

                       Her frame underneath him.
                                   Though eyes cold and dead...

                   Cold and spread upon the floor of the echoing tomb,
                  His passions for her heart and the entry to her womb..

                           Needing, Her this one last time...
                                  Crimal maybe...

                        But, is not love the only true crime?

                                       2004