Refrain of Oblivion

Some nights, the things you want to forget keep coming back as the same fragments — an electronic chime at a crosswalk, the smell after rain. The center of the whirlpool is usually quiet, and while you're sinking you can't tell how deep. The repetition here isn't comfort. The finer the electronic grain and the heavier the beat, the more precise the forgetting becomes. You can't erase it, but you can change the way it pulls you under.