Indifference is cold
Peppered with lack:
A look, a touch, a smile, an acknowledgement.
There is no passion
No want
No driving motion in any particular direction.
Just inertia:
A cesspool of stagnant thoughts,
Feelings
Actions.
The question I am unable to answer is the following:
Can you really just be indifferent,
Or is it something that grows on you?
If it grows on you,
Wouldn't that mean that you grow into lack;
That you grow towards death?
And if you are just indifferent,
Doesn't that mean that you live in lack?
That the death has settled within you?
And could it be,
That you can exit that world?
Travel from indifference to caring?
Can the current flow in that direction?
Is is a legend or has there been proof of its existence?
For once I have gone indifferent,
I cannot recollect ever having gone back to the land of the living;
Not with that thought,
Not with that thing.
