Restore me,
those words are stones
dropped into a lake of voices.

Rippling,
The loudest of them,
repeat ad nauseam.

In this nexus,
i am the oppressed.
Jackals swim concatenating the worst of thoughts,
plotting tomorrow’s coup d'é tat.

My proclivity, to take the wheel
Invariably pulls me under.
Here in this place I am greased like Atlas
Punished to become the choices I’ve made
And for that I’m grateful.