Doing Nothing

I sit on the couch, doing nothing at all

Or drift through the day in a gentle daze

It’s not easy, though - just lazing around

There is a primal urge to fill to the brim

The empty spaces of the mind

With finding answers to questions

Or inventing questions to answer

But when I do sit still, and do nothing

Little by little, the world seeps in

It does this all the time, only now

I see it happening, in slow motion

Every stealthy move it makes

To encroach upon my empty space

I note, and watch, and store away

To learn more about its wily ways

For when I may need to not

Let it make itself at home again.