Though as I belong in prison
My self hatred, myself love.
All contest before the jury.
My mind has but one thought.
Perhaps no thought as I awaited judgement.
These clouds occasionally let the sun speak to me.
And with words, I was free.
Such a delight your heart and mine. They danced long,
orbiting gas conceptions.
Mangnified by mans empiricism.
But still fantastic to each eye.
Though tempest put chains on these limbs.
Else, Else I,
Shall crush this existence.
Pull a weapon of verse,
To make men sit upon the earth
And feel for this magnificent curse.
– Ajax The Lesser