Letting

Let misery be your guide.

Let happiness be only something

which happens to other people.

Let suffering be welcomed

like a wayward son

who finally got his shit together

and now wears a suit.

Let mental anguish thrive

in ways even your mother would approve of.

Herald unfairness, injustice,

and a run of bad luck so improbable

and implausible

that it reads like a bad plot-hole

in a Hollywood film;

herald all that with trumpets,

fife, and drum machines.

You can’t put any of these

things back in their box.

Maybe have your wallet stolen.

Let insincerity flourish and thrive

like an unnecessary pop star.

Let people push in front of you

to the head of the queue.

Let the pull of nihilism

steer you towards despair.

Let headaches be the norm,

except for weekends, when you can’t

even get out of bed.

Only when you’ve done all that

can you appreciate peace of mind.