I live in a giant matrix
of imaginary wierd-oooo's
A cast of coo-koos counting
tics
and clocks.

Who are totally ignoring
a situation deploring
It's like they are all snoring!
There are locks,
on all
the tocs.

Yes! Ticks are piling up
at six, five, and seven
****** by gravity
dead or alive,
without even one debate
without Tocs: always late
Time slowed down is our fate.

The curse?
Reverse
Over-drive.