Sloth Number 1

It's all I can do to breathe.
Each tugs painfully at invisible threads
Holding me from shattering
And the sand drifting away to be picked up by the wind
And blown in innocents' eyes.

Ah! it's such a strain to breathe!
It drains me with each rise each fall,
Leaving almost nothing left with which to laze.
I would long to move if I had the strength,
To take a rest from this exhausting lie on this arduous bed,
Too soft, it forces comfort and I have none for that.
But there's nothing left for longing;
It takes everything to breathe.

Eventually, as my energy is drained,
And there's no more with which to pull and push my chest,
My breath will die away,
But I won't die, for that would be too much,
Too much for me to go through.
I'll simply cease to live.