The god's triad flew

vainly attempting to save 

his domain from us

The manager sits

 in a bland hotel bar in

 a drab town, alone

Tap your fingers on

the keys like a sandpiper 

hunting for morsels 

The thumb flips through the 

endless stream of videos 

while the brain tunes out

Twiddle away your

life on twaddle for a few

coins and a hovel

The drive to create

something beautiful exists

outside time and space

I could go blind or

lose my job or my mind (thoughts

that creep in at night)