Continuum.

The clock goes off. Lying in the black,
Somehow you sense that you've been double-crossed,
Condemned, trapped within the cul-de-sac
Of recurring endless time, completely lost.

The clock goes off. You startle yourself awake,
Maybe it was just some stupid dream?
Some idiotic, self-absorbed mistake?
Surely things are better than they seem?

The clock goes off. Or does it? Paranoid,
you lie in bed. Afraid, a bit in shock,
trapped within the black disjunctive void,
this hellish freak of time, you watch the clock:

Your pulse begins to hyper-accelerate,
you feel the smashings of your heart. You wait.