Control

don't need it, just flow

Look at your conscious logic: your reasonings, while sensibly understood, cannot get past the thick fog of mood down-swings that it curtains.

You push like your body mires in viscous mud, barely making progress, an ant trying to do a human's work. And now, you tire of this incessant suffering, the shrill booms of society's heavy conditioning raging impotently at your dread, shame, goading these burnt horses of their spent, forced energies.

You are always oddity. Outlier, mostly ignored, malnourished. Yet your continued refusal to be assimilated has finally proven a perpetual engine of adaptability, which somehow ensures nourishing flow of all you ever need, on your own terms.

What remains, in surplus, is the uncontrolled waterfall you do not block like a stone outcrop; the march in every direction of spreading forest putting out numberless petty fires.

It's messy, nauseating, seemingly insane. But you know amidst chaos, is the intrinsic order that needs no mortal, insignificant control.

This is not an exercise in using vocabulary.