the nothing that changes

there is a glass of water
next to me
on the nightstand

i sip it, weary
and I awake
with a slow sound
of discontent

i awake in a house
under  a blanket
with a glass of water
beside me

a new awakening
reminds me

that somewhere
a child wakes up
in a field
or a tent
or a box
with or withot
socks
or a blanket
or a nightstand
or any
water at all

i am awake
i want to do something
i don't

i awake again
the next morning
sip my water
and again
the haze
of sleepy discontent
washes over me