Chaos

There was chaos in the city.
There is chaos in my head.
It's three in the morning.
Shouldn't there be some sort of comfort in this bed?

There was chaos in the city.
There is chaos in my head.
I looked it up on the internet;
you're either 'mad' or 'dead'.

There are people squirming at the current circus freak,
like a bird, singing, without its beak.
And there are wolves wearing wool that would make Vuitton jealous,
somehow mistaking fulfillment for acting overzealous.

And then there are the construction workers,
building a mountain out of a mole-hill,
singing "I hate this, I do, but I can't",
so instead they just pop another pill.

Because they live in a world where gossip is knowledge,
and knowledge is a bargaining chip,
on which they chew, digest, excrete,
and then slip.

Yes, there was chaos in the city.
But there was never chaos in my head.
It's four in the morning.
I think I'll just go to bed.