These creatures emerge from the woodwork when I’m at ease.
Within these cubicle walls, the same shift running nine to five.
The same endless tick of the second hand,
Circling at a steady, unyielding pace. Never, Ending.
Never, Ending.

I’m running counterclockwise, seeking the root of amnesia;
Blindly searching for that watch crown, the dial to take me back
To that moment; I want to live it.
Make sense out of this mass of jumbled words,
Make meaning out of something. Decompose these fences,
Shut down this confining life! The bars,
They hold me prisoner within my own language.