Intelligence

Unintentionally emotionally detached,
At a loss for descriptive elements to catch,
Disorientation pulls at my heart,
Moving backwards from the end to the start.
Never been loved,
By a hand that has touched,
Never been held,
And fallen for trust.
Never known love,
But said that I have,
Never been happy,
But never quite sad.

There is a simple thing,
That I always say,
A motto for my actions,
No games to play.
“You can’t change reality,”
Is to what I subscribe,
And I blatantly put it out there,
For dreamers to cast it aside.
Pessimist, I am not,
Optimistic, no.
And there is no middle ground that really shows,
Calculated and logical,
Stuck to the facts,
Which I cannot see through,
This lets hopes and dreams pass.

So forever I am guarded,
Forever shut down,
Unwilling to look,
At what’s above ground,
Walls caving in,
More each day,
And I’m “never hurt,”
But “angry,” I say.
With the woven words,
Twisted around,
Painted imagery,
That turns lies around,
I talk my way out,
Of whatever arises,
Never phased,
And no surprises.

Intelligence is what hinders me,
As I walk through this world,
I don’t belong,
And I feel so old.
Misplaced amongst even the brightest minds,
Captivated by ideals,
That are beyond these times.
Comprehension of twisted themes,
Seems to project from isolated beams,
The lack of challenge,
And the barrier that is set,
Because others cannot reach me,
Is in actuality my regret.

Insatiable is my thirst,
To consistently know all,
Yet seeming above others,
Who are also intellectually tall.
Yet emotions are what guide us,
We don’t learn without pain,
And if you don’t touch the hot stove,
You don’t feel the sting.
I know I know better,
But I am coaxed by self-destruction,
Lulled by chemical distraction,
Already sold by alcohols sweet seduction.
But it’s all that I have,
To hold back my mind,
For once a blank slate,
Will free up spent time.

But I know I can’t sip,
On some vodka or wine,
Absinthes strong call,
I must decline.
And I march through sober,
One more day,
Ignoring emotional disarray,
Never been loved,
By a hand that has touched,
Never felt their warmth,
Or tender clutch,
Cut off from feeling,
Yet the need to numb pain.
Intelligence keeps us in this lonely game.
No accountability,
As we stand above all,
Yet never do we feel,
And we pretend to stand tall.

Votes and comments are *as always* very much appreciated!! Loves