a cut of the day - ii

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I am the freest man in the world—no jobs, no aspirations; no items to tick off, no pencil to twiddle; no hair to curl, no heel to cool; no need for feigned shame or overblown rage, no exposure to the human species or their putative moral obligations set upon me. I must be content, for I have all the slates to wipe, and streets to cross; I have every iota with me that makes who I am, every lucid thought within me to mirror the world I intrude myself upon. However, I, a wanderer who wonders at the vagrant, a conjurer who conquers the mystery of truth, always find my fate a straightway maze, the vast of which assures as well as contradicts every one of my senses.
Thinking, I take them all out—my puny, wearish thoughts, and iron them down, fold them up into collages of geometries, and stow them away in the draw; and then unthinking I upset the draw, and go over the ritual, thinking, and not realising.

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