On a desolate plain,with no streets and no name,I did see him there. The man with the reptilian-stare.

Drinking primeval-soup from a ladle full scoop. Ancestral dribble etched on his chin,with a napkin of empathy I did move in,steering well clear of his hunger some grin.

High treason within reason! A man was highly strung and spaciously quartered. A piece for all! The quantity of dissection was so small. Those left in his wake were only left for the sake,of their numbers being so askew,but he never knew.

The fumbling of a tumbling jester-satire,on furrow-brow he relentlessly perspired. Challenging his stare he mentally consumed me right there and on a picnic lain lawn,a new epoch was born.