Chaos

Most of the time,

I feel as if I am falling apart

and perhaps i'm always falling apart:

late, for things, money rumpled up in my pockets

rushing to get somewhere

never organized, never organized

my old friend chaos rains down on me

getting everything wrong, everything wrong

hard to pay attention to what is deemed consequential 

anxiety my dear lover, and fear is her best friend

always leading down a hot road, which ends 

too soon

I gotta get some things right

I'm at war with the tribe, I do not wanna be at

war with the tribe

I always found rebels to be pretentious,

though it seems like I am one nonetheless 

trapped of course