My Indifference is Pallid

My indifference is pallid,
everyone can see it.

I try to care about the things they say
I give attempt at engaging their intellect

It drowns me - my creativity

Although I have desire,
a lust to compare to any man of youth,
it is squelched

I impetuously pursue that which will not satisfy
my mind, my soul
like a rat longing for poisioned cheese

It's ridiculous.

Though before long the storm passes,
I am once again left to my devices
left dreaming and imagining
of things no other can conceive

It separates me,
perhaps through vanity,
perhaps through the foolish pursuit of squalor,
but it does.

It's not frightening.

My indifference is pallid.
Everyone can see it.