intelligence is
the new authority
resistance is
the new sanctity
velvety memoir
of the patchy ride
in a rainbow rollercoaster,
left everything prime
on the outside
sink into the wagon with
wild, visceral inside
embark on an odyssey
observing the past,
questioning the future.

future is a distant memory
of all the anachronistic glory.

I really, really don’t want to be beautiful.

I want to make people tremble.

I want to walk into a room and turn people’s heads- not because I’m pretty, but because I walked in with such confidence that people go “****.”

I want the wrong people to be scared by me, and the right people to take me as a challenge, but I want everyone to be intimidated by me.

I want to be the woman no one dares **** with.

I want to be compared to Cleopatra- not in terms of how pretty or symmetrical her face was, but because she seduces men into her bed with her mind and intellect.

I want to be compared to powerful and unstoppable forces of nature, where they aren’t powerful Because of their beauty, but beautiful because of their power.

So this is why I get insulted when you call me pretty before you call me smart.

I was 10 years old
I was an excellent reader
Ahead of my age
I could read for hours a day
Books each night
I was sitting in class that day
Reading aloud
And noting looked different to me
In my mind every word was right where it should be
And mid-sentence I heard it
The shrill voice yelling to read it how it was written
But I was reading it how I saw it in my own eyes
Only my eyes were wrong
Mixed matched and all around wrong
And as smart as I might have been
I was never the right kind of smart

I am the best of the best,
and you can put it to the test
but you will find
that only I am sublime.

Yet, why do I feel this way,
angry and repressed
tired and distressed.
Irritation is my constant state.
and it is increasing at an alarming rate.

Maybe if I could just null the emotion,
To sink beneath the waves of ocean,
To get lost in all the commotion,
To fall in love with self-devotion,
but, no,
forget I even made the notion,
of doing something like letting go.

For it's too easy a way out,
and I will not leave a doubt
that I am here to stay,
much to my own dismay.

Why?
Because, I am the best of the best.
And I have put that to the test.
for better or worse,
my intelligence is a curse.

knowledge is an ocean,
its vast and endless capacity
filled with many different things.

knowledge is a book,
it is filled with information,
begging to be read.

knowledge is a black hole,
its outer figure drags you in,
and holds you captive.

knowledge is a bookshelf,
you have many books of information,
and just one is not enough to satisfy.