Working on Nothing

Content was something

You could rarely achieve.

Never mind anything

Better than that.

Finding something satisfactory

Was like trying to

Organize particles of water.

One by one.

Like trying to find

Exactly where your thoughts

Were when you fell asleep.

Into a medicated slumber.

Sometimes you got flickers

Some joy, some relief.

But never because it just

Stumbled into your hands,

Never because you

Want it,

You worked for what

You owned, what you had.

And there was nothing more,.

No luxuries, no pampering.

Your life consisted of

Something grey, something

Tasteless. And, if by chance,

You get a fee for something great,

It would be gone by tomorrow.