Pantoum of the Cell

Time thickens like a lake of blood,
It flows no more, its pace congeals,
Behind a bolt with creaking echo sound,
Where hour upon hour in piles reveals.

It flows no more, its pace congeals,
The crippled day, limping in despair,
Where hour upon hour in piles reveals,
Making the noon like midnight wear.

The crippled day, limping in despair,
When its foot presses on my heavy head,
Making the noon like midnight wear,
My spirit dies as moments fade away to dead.

When its foot presses on my heavy head,
Brooding laughs with a freezing grin,
My spirit dies as moments fade away to dead,
Time thickens like a lake of blood within.