Too Damn Busy for Hatred

I can plot, scheme, conspire, connive...
I can hate, loathe, envy, covet, crave.
I can wallow in hatred and jealousy,
enmity, aversion, resentment.
But that takes all the time there is,
a powerful vacuum sucking all in,
holding it tightly, enmeshed in the mire.
If I simply turn it off, ignore the emotions,
in necessary acknowledging the feeling
then walking away from it...
If I don't make he time to dwell there,
it's all there, easy to ignore, lost in the Hoover
and not available to be tripped over
as I gather bouquets of joy through my day.