In fidelity sleeping a tremulous void that circumvents the face of lies. I’ll tarry here, where the room drips madness thick like congealing blood in the rain. And the walls separate twisting in deception for my mind unbound scathed in trembling coals My blood I am the madness Dripping.
I had this image of someone forced into isolation-style captivity and then forgotten about. I don't know that this really conveys any of that, but it's where this poem came from.