My parents wonder at my chronic disorganization,
  for which I can offer only one explanation:         
 surrounded by mess, is where I work best                
 in the eye of the storm, I best perform.
My creative flow, is more like a tornado
                but I'm the master, of my natural disaster.     
    To others my room is quite amiss
         yet I know where everything is.
It represents my thoughts,   
     cluttered & random
but not really lost.
I feel most      
at peace
     amidst
 choas.




 

a
hazard
of being
human:
 

how we occupy our minds

the
thoughts
we try
to hide
we always
 seek & find

...i thought the stars had alligned
i saw galaxies in your eyes
you brought only tears to mine
i guess love really is blind...
 

They don't say
in the terms and conditions

that they condition you
to accept the terms

decided by society.