"Bilge Challenge Sonnet using Donne's Rhymewords"

When some internal circuitry did blow
And nevermore to audit or arise
The Finnish tax man sat, infinities
(Now neatly summed) hovered only to go
And elsewhere tenanted manshapes to o'erthrow.

But those beside him bound by tyrannies
Of rule & clock, could not but let their eyes
Flick across this Calvary of his woe:
Assuming he was in a diligent space.

So two days passed. Where cubicles abound,
Is neither joy, nor novelty, nor grace,
Yet sometimes truth... A neighbor trod his ground
With too much load, & one on top bonked good
The poor temp's nog, which promptly spurted blood.

01 24 04

What bothers me most about jail is how quickly i get used to it--i can't sustain my outrage. For i've been trained to this place, engraved with the rules upon my early years--and in fact it's freedom i can never get used to... I thought i had a thirst for freedom, but it was only the desperate longing to escape. I have to acquire a taste for freedom; at first i don't even like it.
   And i want to be a liberator...

If the rules matter don't say it's not a game. And the hunt, too, was once made into a game. But not only. Shall i demand, every chess match must be for blood? --Someone's.