Control over the self
Not the self
Out of control
Giving in eagerly
Any diversion
From work and tedium
Replaced by momentary impulses
Overruling sensibility
Only place to go from there
Is Anxiety
And she is the one in control
Of the out of control
With no fence to be contained in.
There is an exact amount of time
An accurate number of calories
And chemicals
And hours fettered away
Then they are gone
What is left
But an uncontrolled blob
Of what could have been shaped into
A person of clarity and direction
The tour guide must have been distracted
Unable to clarify the “must see” places
All because the cow did runaway with the moon
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