3 days off

I have come
to
dread days off, when the loneliness
gains a grip
and pulls me down
into an abyss of thought, where I remain,
sometimes,
until I get
busy,
again,
or un till
the day
off
becomes
a
Day On.
Odd conundrum, this:
Most,
I suspect,
live for
freedom from
work. I live
for
the
shackles,
for
therein –
thereon,
thereupon –
lies my
liberty,
a freedom from
myself. It seems a waste, of course:
this way.
So, I write,
instead,
or just to pass
the time and
tell
myself
that it is
a good
use
of the free time
that
enslaves me
so mercilessly, but gently, mostly, if that can be.