Idle Vision

https://blackcoffeepoetry.substack.com/p/seven-sins-sloth

I’ve always been restless,
unsettled, even.

A beautiful day – pressure to get out
and enjoy nature and the weather.
Whether I want to or not,
a stormy day is my preference.

I stay inside and ruminate
about all the ways I have been wronged –
those who have my scars.

Watching the hustle of the hungry is boring.
People buzzing around trying to make it;
more money, more happy.
Make less sense.

The madness of the labor of love
enriches the hands that reach out for substance.
My hand is out.
Feed me.

I sit idly by so you can have the glory
of the spotlight,
the fame –
my Savior.

I have tried to enrich my world,
only for that spark to be snuffed
by contrarians.

I had things to say,
but you bit my tongue
and took the words as your own.

I am now silent.
Clipped my wings.
Took my things.
I stay grounded,
stifled,
shushed.

My smile and look of engagement
hide my lack of contribution.

My head is filled with the chorus,
“Here we are now, entertain us.”

There is time to find the answers
and reach the deadline.
Turn away
while I mainline.

Do what you want.
I don’t care for myself
or how others view me.

I lack energy,
effort,
and love
for a place
where being a sloth is rewarded.

This leaves space
for others to manipulate the milieu.
Omissions.

I will exist,
waiting to be saved.

I remain apathetic
until your vision hurts;
then the sloth will awaken
with a fury –
Felt like no other.

© Shayne Buchwald-Nickoles 2025