Falling more and more
Into the depths
Of my inner-world
Where depression reigns,
Where there is no relief,
Where the darkness
Is all consuming,
Where my heart turns to stone,
Where it aches and bleeds,
Where l am a prisoner,
Where I am nothing.
Any substance, only faked
Intuituve intelligence
Ha! Whoever heard of such a thing?
I must have made that up
To cover for my glaring inadequacies.
I fooled them though...
Even had a Geophysics professor
Indiana University, Bloomington, Indiana
Talking to me.
He thought I was refreshing.
Wow, what a treat.
Wow, me refreshing?
What a joke.
I am anything but resfreshing...
I am a joke...
I am a fairly well accomplished woman with major insecurities. I felt I had an intuitive sense about me and later it became intuitive intelligence. At the ripe old age of 76, my intelligence is in major remission it seems. Thus the poem.