work

life becomes work
work becomes life
cycle of solitude, I think not
more akin to that sun cycle
where the Earth collapses on its side occasionally
Turns its back to the heat for months on end
And I end up HERE for that time?

I don’t think so.
My time hasn’t come
Where devotion overtakes golden goals
At least, temporary ones
the slavery of it all, a daily harassment of freedom
To fit this conformity we call
“wealth”
and “satisfaction”
and “comfort.”

It’s a form of masochism
The way we convince ourselves we enjoy it
The effort it extolls
The family relations it drains
Still, there’s nothing better to do.