Molecule of Mankind

Since time out of mind, out of thought, a molecule of mankind (like I) is held hostage by the garrote of just being, and wonders why the universe has it overwrought, but too woebegone to ramify. As my fragile frame and presence of mind contract and then explode, aspects of self lose existence (like schizophrenic à la mode): and therefore no longer make sense, whilst suffering a manic episode. Because of my mad disorder, these lines reflect a troubled rhyme (and an unbalanced word order); still, so long as I feel sublime, there won't be need (by court order) for me to do more Bedlam time.