Vicious circles bloom

inside the jaws 

of a vise, its grip

vies for wounds 

to inflict, flinches

at the mention

of redemption, flashes

its teeth, and in

dulcet tones reassures

that a cyclical motion

is the sole notion

that can provide

a semblance of sense 

for one who fails 

to countenance surrender

to a better, potentially

sympathetic resonance...