Torpor Mentis Bona Negligentis
'An arid desert, dry, untouched by spring!
The world around is silent, cold, unkind,
unfriendly, thorned with vines that prick and sting.
With every duty done I fall behind;
more hassle blooms with every good I find,
and everything will work me half to death.'
This drought that chokes out joy? Your wasted breath.