Autistic Trips Vol.6-Recollections Of Abuse

Left side of my brain feels like a bee

Buzzing, darting from flower to flower

Trying to find some semblance of good

In a world that can’t even spell it

Serve it on a plate, warm it in a bowl

Hot soup, real truth, they spill it on the ground

Obsessed with lies, they despise the sound

I show them there’s more than the dialectic

I’ve always dug my heels deep in the little

Puzzles create big pictures, but one misstep

And you’ve destroyed the beauty of it all

Poets reshape the idea of reincarnation

Lies die, words fall short in the long distance

But my reflections spiral towards heaven

Tornadic in nature, silent in practice

Abusing the status quo

like what was done to me not too long ago

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