I am continuous, but I do not continue.
I am walking along dim lighted aisles again; again and again and again.
I start and stop in one fluid motion. Breathe, break. Breathe, break.
I am not a whole. I am small contraptions, intertwined within each other; like clock work, spinning faster and faster until they become stuck. I become stuck.
The clock parts twitch, like stinging eyes. Little cracks and ticks, repeating over and over.