The Irrelevant Man

What are the excuses that bring a man to count the sentence beats that his body pronounces? He could have, he should have won his bread and butter dancing in some cabaret. At least, there, he would have helped the working man and woman to forget their fatigue. But no, there he is digging into the paper fabric with the hope of hearing, like an ethnologist, the echoes of an ancient consciousness. The man is off limits, a uomo fuori scopo. The useless man. It is seems that this insignificant man has produced a lengthy page bearing the title The Irrelevant Man. The bustle from paper being scratched. The events here revealed are stories, traits, attacks, blows, screams. What would he not do to lift himself from the tiles in the mansions of poetry?