23 July 2016


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