"Go with the flow"

"Sometimes you just have to walk out the door, go with the flow."
...
I cannot do that.
"What, go with the flow..?"
Everything is here, waiting for me.
All my options here too,
inching towards me in a small, closed off room.
Waiting for me to speak and say anything.
But I am speechless.
Not because I have nothing to say,
Not because I forgot how to say,
it's because my mind is going
and going
and going
and GOING
and it doesn't stop.
It speaks for me, to me.
Taking up all my hours that could be spent
talking
making
living
breathing.
The "flow" is right outside the door.
However, it's crowded in this room.
To push past that
crowd
wall
sea of my mind
would be to leave
behind all decisions
for someone, anyone,
but me to make.
But they are rightfully mine
No one else's but mine.
This hour
minute
second
present day me responsibility.
I would love to walk out that door
and go with the flow.
But I never will.

@twerp Oh Twerp, you did it! You said you’d experiment with structure and flow, and you actually went for it—so yay! I love how you start by asking about going with the flow and then break that very flow with-
shifts in alignment.
The way stop and mind are in red, and leave is in green—those little details add so much meaning. The bold text, the way hour, minute, and second shrink progressively—it’s not just a poem for the mind and heart but for the eyes too. The visual layering gives it so much depth.
And that build-up—"going and going and GOING"—it really pulls you into that spiraling, overwhelming rush. Then there’s the contrast: the "flow" is right outside, so easy in theory, but inside, the room is packed—not just with people but with thoughts, pressure, decisions. That image really sticks. And the ending? No grand breakthrough , just the weight of never. (there is a resignation but also there is a hope. It is only "But I never will" that is stopping the speaker.) But a distant possibility of the flow lingers. But is the flow good or bad? The speaker doesn’t seem to yearn for it, nor does they outright dismiss it. It’s an interesting balance. Anyway, brilliantly done.
@azurePond
Thank you, azure. You don't know how much I hold your kindness to my heart. Honestly, I wasn't sure if this was too much or not. But hey, experiments are meant to be changed and learned from. I wrote this about how when I have to make important choices It feels like the whole. entire. world. is crashing down on me. Like Atlas gave up his job and thought a vacation would be nice lol
To answer your question, "But Is the flow good or bad" it's neither, just out of my reach. In a sense it's a lovely thing. Like a lazy river at a waterpark, simple and moves you along without much effort. However, my mind is keeping me from jumping in because of the water temperatures, the fact that I might bump into someone and then they hate me forever for ruining their flow, I might forget how to swim, just lots of "what ifs" and "I might" pilling and pilling on. So, at the end, "But I never will" is my decision to avoid all those what ifs and the lazy river flow all together. Safe yet overwhelmed in my mind instead of possibly unsafe and definitely overwhelmed outside of it.
Also, glad to see you back! Thank you for always reading my work.

@twerp You have such a beautiful way of expressing emotions, and I can feel every bit of that weight you describe. The Atlas comparison? I understand - that crushing indecision, the feeling of holding up the world while trying to figure out if you're even supposed to. And that lazy river analogy— I get it. The “what ifs” pile up fast, and sometimes staying still feels safer than stepping into the flow, even if it means missing out. But hey, even recognizing that is something. Maybe one day, you’ll dip a toe in—not because you have to, but because you want to. And even if you don’t, your words still make waves.
Also, I really appreciate your poems and your words. It means a lot. And I’ll be here reading as often as I can!