Oscillations Of The Disjointed Man

Dragged by the rhythm of unseen hands. The pendulum forever arcs through silent lands of sand. Breathless and bound to the measured swing. Time is but a cage, and I am its damned string. Tick, tock. The clock unravels, the thread unwound. Tick, tock. The moment is consumed, a sight profound. The horizon is folding into itself. The fracture blooming profusely. The story that has been shelved. The mirror changes form as a thousand lives stare back. Each reflection twisting, each axis that cracks. The shadows stretching too thin, so thin. The hollow vessel decaying and crumbling within. A fleeting smile in the fractured glass defiled. A moment of peace unable to reconcile. Disjointed laughter, undefined and cold. The face I currently wear is definitely not my own. The light refracts into cacophonies unknown. A kaleidoscope of different worlds and realities, overthrown. The pistons are firing in my now synthetic veins. The rhythmic heartbeats are forged in freezing domains. The machine violently speaks its language of steel. The pulse, the frequency that I no longer feel. Metallic whispers grind these disorganized thoughts. Each day is a revolution, a war that's been fought. I am become the cog, the spinning wheel. The oscillation of the disjointed man, turning what's real. Deconstruct. Rebuild. Repeat. Deconstruct. Rebuild. Repeat. A fractured man will never be complete. What I am but the fragments that I lost? A scattered soul, purposeless, merely a fleeting cost. The threads of my self, they twist and fray perpetually. A tapestry torn in constant disarray. Each step that I take is a spiral back. Each breath that I draw is a fading track. I reach for the edges but they dissolve. A labyrinth of echoes, that shall never be solved. What I am but the fragments that I lost? A scattered soul, purposeless, merely a fleeting cost. The threads of my self, they twist and fray perpetually. A tapestry torn in constant disarray. Each step that I take is a spiral back. Each breath that I draw is a fading track. I reach for the edges but they dissolve. A labyrinth of echoes, that shall never be solved. Still the pendulum swings with paths unseen. Through these endless cycles, I have always been. A disjointed man, a saddening fracture line. Caught in the merciless pull of the grand design. This oscillation bends the whole. What's lost is neither part nor whole. The clock runs out, its weight undone. And yet the cycle has just begun.