The pencil sits in front of him but he doesn’t write, not because he has no mind, but because he has no want. He has no drive. The calculator sits to the left of him but he wants right out of the chair and into his bed, into his head. Where dreams dash and twirl, and geometry is not yet pioneered. No maths, no sciences; Only museums, and cemeteries, and libraries. The Romantic poets await for him. He is drenched in Keats’ kisses. Lord Byron whispers to him the latest olde gossip, and Wordsworth hands him the daintiest daisy. Soon, his body is wrapped in the daisy chains. No calculations or periodic tables needed for sitting in nature. There is no need for theorems and postulates when counting stars, climbing trees, chasing bees. A quill sits in front of him and he writes the most beautiful sonnet.
I can relate. One-time in class, it was so boring, and nothing important was happening, so I just day dreamed. Lucky, too, cause that's how I got my idea for a novel. This little paragraph is actually better than most of my novel! 
You have a knack for this kind of thing. Ever considered poetry?
Hi there!
Welcome to YWS!! I hope you enjoy it here. So this is a good story, and I just have a few things suggestions I would like to put out there and I hope they help! First off, this reads more like a poem to me. That mostly lies in the Rhythm though. Everything else is just a few words that need to be switched around. "He wants right out of the chair..." That part is a little awkward. I would say something like this: "He cannot wait to get out of the chair." I would also put a comma between "the left of him" and "But he wants right out of the chair."
That helps the reader to not feel so rushed and it smooths it out.
Again, Good story, and I hoped this helped!
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