The truth of pleasure denies the fort,
ridden with calluses from within;

where major parts delve and decay,
the shortness of breath hail and pray;

a lunar eclipse summarized the state,
through a prism I viewed within;

born and bred from shades of hate,
a town which made me contemplate;

from a square I saw it disintegrate,
it stretched and fit into my map;

where my eyes foresaw the illustration,
a candle burned into my imagination;

regressed to pain and made me amputate,
belligerently I fought the magistrate;

yet it seemed effortless,
a cubic cell of thorns and stings;
it enclosed itself onto my fate.