Inertia

And so giving in to inertia is best; think of the consequence 

when lethargy is burned into a dullness of slag-like sloth, a 

torpor of laziness dressed as stagnation - oh, the apathy in 

a malaise of indolence; you’d prefer lifeless enervation to it 

if its immobility bares an accidie too bland to wear - but the 

stasis stays anyway - and there’s a languor of languidness 

whose torpidity breeds an otiosity that you don’t need - nor 

a state of hebetude to fall back into if all else should fail 

While inaction and idleness do not seem too distressed or 

of a passivity you’d believe inertness - inactivity professes 

the brain’s enthralled in sluggish, listless motionlessness -  

and there you begin to be the fainéant you’d ever denied, 

and crying about it won’t compromise a thing - why - well, 

even in a bureaucracy a tear only needs its own gravity 

© 8 March 2016, I. D. Carswell