echoloop

i wake because the loop tells me to not with purpose not with reason only with sequence. clock drips metal in my throat the beat (that heartbeat?) is synthetic now. same tick, same skip, same ache, on command. i stretch my limbs in choreography. the breath i take is sanctioned. filed. approved. the sky forgets how to move. i count its pixels. the corners repeat. even my scream is a rerun. this is not life. this is a rerender of something that might’ve once been warm. organic. before the grindstone wore down even my shadow. i used to be a person. now i am a memory of one, looping for their comfort, their amusement, their goddamn fucking system report. every day is yesterday with a new label. even the dirt has seen this before. even the static knows my name. even the silence says it; again again again