Apathy. Lethargy. Neglect. Decay. Stagnation.
Lean In - Debdutta Pal
You’ll make it
Find the words to lull
Exhale
These nights that don’t tick
Aren’t as bad as they seethe
Because I’m here
I care. So Much.
Like nobody else.
Bring yourself
In the clutch of now
There’s a switch I tap
Shut down the world
Give me all of you
And it’s yours
Without stained contracts
Of fevered forever.
It’s 4:41
Complete the hour
Weekend’s spoon unwinding
Skip daytime
Don’t trip for the 268th time
Caught up in your own head
Caring damages
Quit restraining
Our fundamental chemistry.
They call me a captor
Except educate me
Dart me in the eyes
Who lets good into your life?
They swing addictions
Created for extraction
And I set you loose.
You say you want to know
Like you didn’t swipe futures
Crawled back to me
Busy begging
To forfeit what you found
Blot aches with coffee filters
Soaking it through.
Don’t get too connected
Your 5 a.m. alarm
If you give in
You’ll never leave
So sell wicked contests
Smile at sanctimony
Say you’re fine
While labelling me insane.
You hate that you want me
Truth isn’t fragile
People are
Prompting folklore to blame
For challenging preferences
If you need it
To welcome comforting
I would lie for you.
Bypass our broken fringes
Where I held you together
Go ahead and try
Dream. Work. Fail. Repeat.
Decompose nights
I’ll be here waiting
For eternity
When you render my name.
© Debdutta Pal 2025
The Cousin of Death - Jozef Cain
Lost all will to live No God to forgive Any sins... it's entropy Slacking off in purgatory Sitting at a bus stop With no intentions Of taking one, drop To my knees in surrender To Mammon broke and broken The world moves so fast It feels like taking a break is blasphemy So sloth feels like a virtue at this point I don't feel like thinking Can't I shut this fountain off Can't I turn this stream away Divert this energy to a glutton Who can hoard it For the offspring I'll never have For the book I'll never write For the others who might For the others who might Need it I don't want it Take this spirit off of me Take this yoke off of me I don't need it anymore Let me sleep
© Jozef Cain 2025
Idle Vision - Shayne Buchwald-Nickoles
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
Ennui - Elena
Sweat dripping off Weary hands Too concerned with the Midas Touch Sand and desert She builds a tent Staring at hoops In heat-ricocheting air I am tired Too tired to speak, Socialize. I draw circles in the sand One fingertip loosely grazing the ground Everyone is chattering I can’t declutter my brain Psy trance and edibles I wave them away I just wanna stay Horizontal Mindlessly ripping Wrists into bloody shreds With green wristbands I want a shower A fresh face and my apartment I don’t know if I fuck with these people at all I want my mother to call I draw the curtains close While Dust settles on my nose
© Elena Wasserzier 2025
Sloth - Devo Carpenter
The biggest sin in my house growing up was laziness
Every Saturday we would deep clean the house for hours
Bleach floors, scrub baseboards, wash windows
It is ok to be poor but not dirty
Was my momma’s mantra
Naturally when I grew up, I became a slob
No more bleach headaches and red hands
Dirty clothes were often floor tiles along their clean companions
Children changed that partners changed that
Sloth no longer served me
Alternatively, I refuse to be my mom
Doors in the bedrooms ensured my children freedom to be careless
My sister confided she would never get back the hours
Spent arguing with her teenage daughter over cleanliness
I decided not to be that person
Common areas were to be neat
Private areas were to be theirs
On occasion a smell would overpower
Retrieved snacks from floors
New rules about eating in rooms
My adult children struggle keeping a clean house
A balance was needed
I never found it
Antiseptic homes are where horror lies
I will take the sloth
© Devo Carpenter 2025
Quicksand - Dondi Springer
I was supposed to move mountains, instead I watched dust collect on my dreams. Tomorrow became the god I worship, But never meet face to face. Potential rusts under blankets of someday, As I crucify time on the cross of later. Between intention and action lies infinity, Where I've built my permanent residence. Comfortable in the coffin of complacency, As opportunity knocks with bloody knuckles. I'm drifting through deadline graveyards, Mentally marooned in mañana mantras, Ambition atrophied by apathetic afternoons, Purpose postponed until permanently paused— I've perfected the art of dying without moving.
© Dondi Springer 2025
 | A guest post by
|
 | A guest post by
|
 | A guest post by
|
'Grats to all involved in Seven Sins: Sloth!
Now, the three best sins lie in wake (or fright?)
WRATH|ENVY|VANITYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
I am so honored to be included with such talent. Thank you, BCP, for including me among the other sinners.