I am disorder
Loathsome and cute
In the arms of pretension
Snarling, at all strange passersby

How dare they partake
Of my raging streams
As the visitors
The fools in performance

Haughty and proud
I lift my eyes high
And trudge unknowingly
Through a pasture of waste

I am ceaselessly young
Creative and crazed
In love, in disdain
An untiring
And ever-shifting wind