Chaos

The self-inflicted affliction,
the glow of the growing,
the obviously obvious
that's quickly slowing,
breaking down the broken,
riding the crippled,
the problematic problems
that seem to have tripled,
the towering of towers,
the scaring fear mongers,
the preaching of the righteous
that could not be wronger,
the peace of the peacemakers
that brings war from the warriors,
the blood from the heartless
of the sacrificed couriers,
it all amounts to too much,
an amount unknown to the masses
with hopes of the hopeless
dashing from empty glasses,
empty pockets emptied out
in front of glossy eyes glossed over,
as useful as the useless idea
of the home of the eternal rover.

A Respite That Renders

Designed and created to help,
it now controls you,
but now that it leaves
you don't know what to do.
Its respite renders you
helpless in every way.
You can't think, you can't act,
you don't know what to say.
Instead you react
in a state of sheer panic,
like an addict attacked
by his paranoia, brutally manic.
Your irrational dependency
that, prior you thought nothing about,
now strikes you crippled
without even a voice to shout.
You cannot shift blame
for there is only one
who lacked preparation
when all was said and done.
Now that you feel
a world crashed and crumbled
perhaps the ruin that remains
will cause you to be humbled.
Perhaps now you won't
take advantage of the situation
but rather serve as more than a puppet
so you are full of more than consternation.