Living out of a bag 

Sorting, searching, always looking. 
They don’t tell you this on the hotel booking. 

All my things stuffed in a duffel,
To find my socks, I must ruffle. 

What I need is never on the surface –
The incessant digging makes me nervous. 

I long for my cupboard, I long for order. 
I’m losing my mind, I’m on the border.