Etchings of Chaos

Over cupfuls and clinking of glasses,
High fives and conversational glances,
Buds a relation, of acquaintances.
People get to know people.

Some you couldn't get bored of,
Others, you wouldn't care to entertain.
While a few, make no difference to you.
You know them all, they do too.

Or so you think.

When it's no longer gossip that's doing the talking.
Friendships turn sour over
Things you wouldn't even want to start comprehending.
When Desdemona slips into Othello's lines effortlessly.

Exchange lives and you'll know.
Sexuality's a spectrum,
Not a grey black or an off-white.
So is 'morality' and every other.

Don't talk about peace or violence.
Merge harmony and chaos and stand still, to see.
'Your life' and 'my life' are hollow constructs.
Then you start to fall, you're back on your feet,
Trying to see the silence.

Thinking, funny you didn't hold onto yourself
Because you could have.
Or so you think.