Comfort in Chaos
those born into a hurricane
seek the strongest winds blowing
without ever having looked into the eye
of tranquility setting on the horizon
the heart of a bloody sun
calmly sinking into the pocket
of the stable ground
they paint the walls
with shit and put up sails
so full of holes
they look like Swiss cheese
melting on the sill
of a home unable to withstand
the burning whips of a gale
unsatisfied with sitting still
they break every window
to maintain calamity
even in the absence
of a storm