An Aspergian’s Stress Relief: Nature

 

 

There’s not much great about Baltimore.

We haven’t recovered from the riots. Buildings haven’t been rebuilt, lies still destroyed, and the thugs still run the streets.

The poverty, not shown on the brochures for the Inner Harbor and Towson, are degrading the city as quickly as the rampant drug abuse.

The city needs to be renamed “Bodymore” for the amount of people that die here. Seriously, Google our homicide rates. Just sickening, dreadful, and scary. And the leaders wonder why tourists are scared to come and families are scared to stay.

The city hasn’t improved in any way in nearly twenty years. It’s painfully stagnant, and as my home, I’m saddened.

Along with my aspergian tendencies, and the nature of the people here, it makes for a tough going. I struggle to befriend anyone here. All my (failed) relationships began outside the city, and the people I do know here that I like are few and far between. Maybe it’s all the dead people in the Harbor that makes the people so senile. Or the fact that white women get raped by black thugs in alleys and Canton residents get so angered they nearly  go up in arms to keep public transit out of their parts. There is so much anger, hostility, and frustration in this city. You can feel it as soon as you step out the door, and it’s oppressing. Still, I have found my places of solace. My home is my biggest one, but if not there, then Patterson Park is second on the list. It’s a huge park, spanning six or seven long blocks, and while it’s not the safest place (duh, it’s Baltimore), it is big and there’s plenty of space to get lost in the moment. I love it best during the fall, because I adore the trees and the colors of the leaves.

Golden leaves

lead my feet

to a place

so discreet

Shelter

made of yellow, brown

and red

is where our love

first bred

Now reaching out

like the trees

we sat under

eagerly awaiting winter

while they skinny dipped in summer

Our time is then

and our time is now

Here come the reindeer

here comes the snow

Here comes another winter

To where shall we go?

 

 

Walking

without stopping

Walking

without thinking

Walking

without knowing

Walking

without hoping

Walking

expecting

that the distance will change

the appearance

expecting the time to change

the supposed

and expecting you to change

them

I live more

when stopping

and letting others

walk by

I see what

they could never

If I could give

a dream wings

If I could give

a thought heartbeats

If I could give

hope a name

I’d give it my own

because I can make all

this happen

 

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