Strangenesses

Past chaos, there is information,
If you keep the heat on high enough.
Stably dynamic vortices form
Around the mess cooking in your pot,

Where the rich stew must copy the poor
And the middle must copy the rich.
Just enough coercion is being
Applied to eventually ensure

The triumph of forgetting the rest.
Prune enough options, you reach the point
Where the remaining connections reach
Information's max inflection point,

And from there on out, it's all decay.
Why is it always the middle way?
I'm an outlier in that middle,
Insider out under those street lamps.