Metallic Brain

I am a standing, walking, waking engine.
A metal stack of time,
Each outward breath
A fine line of iron filings
That slowly make their way
Through the hourglass.
New thoughts encased in silver,
Old memories brass
Within my metallic brain,
A tap makes a tinny hollow noise,
Out fall a few more.
I can cut through paper,
I can withstand the knocks
And on I walk, shining
To the sound of the clocks.
If I catch the light
My skin flashes white, magnesium-bright,
Hinges balmed like new,
The strides do not creak but sway
As I walk through the days, and the time clicks on.