Disorder

I have plenty of disorder. I must love chaos, too. I realize I'm paranoid and reliving moments, boo. I am so anxious to see my desires to fruition. I really want to be so neat and keen on things others do. But all I hear are voices of past loved ones, fools. Maybe now you understand; I'm just a man with few plans, that God will laugh at few. Here are my limbs I pull them off and back on. Here are my whims I scurry for a moment to dilute my nerves. I tremble uncontrollably with all that I've heard.