Pain And Indecision

I have memories endless

And the words to detail them all

Yet I pretend not to know my past

Saying it was all awash

And not worth the time to discuss

The rains fall upon oft-walked ground

Ipull out a drink, because only silence

Can truly understand why I bleed

The rain is cold, the winds creep through

Yet bare skin hardly shudders, I’ve endured worse

Glasses fog up, becoming a hindrance to life

I feel with my heart, the only thing that feels right

Now I can remember everything that happened

I can, but I still won’t tell

Nature knows what I’ve done, but I’m still afraid

I feel the eyes of another watching over me

Casting doubtful glances upon my soul

I have a knife that could end it all

The truth I withhold could set me free

But I love the pain, I love the indecision

It’s all I’ve ever known

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Half Hearted

Maybe summer’s finally here

The sun shines long and hard

Blades of grass tall and firm

I see bees, young birds in the trees

The clouds don’t hide the perfection

Of a clear blue sky

Or maybe I’m just losing consciousness

The failed surgery on a heart long lost

And lungs pitiful and putrid from breath

Wasted on the legs of one I couldn’t have

My eyes are nearly liquid in their sockets

And my ears fell off years ago

A miserable corpse would be too kind

I am truly the walking dead

Never enough hatred to make me immune

To the darling voices of angels

Sent to save my sorrowful past

Just enough love to make them think

I was worth saving

Simply, I cannot go on as I am

Simple and secluded, I am little as a man

But I am exhausted from being told I’m alive

I am tired of being the only true dead

Among the masses of half-hearted

Vessel Of Troubled Thoughts

The method of my madness

Is the confidence in blackness

In a meadow of white flowers

Some roses, some saps

In a forest of unintelligible raps

Small, handcrafted lines don’t stand a chance

And they never gave me one, no endorsement

But with patience and practice I absorbed it

Now wherever I go I pen the deepest passion

Without inspiration, just routine, no rations

Of any emotion I might be feeling at the time

Be it anger, be it guilt, be it sadness

That often warms as a thick quilt

Draped over a sick child in fits of agony

Don’t look at my misery, don’t behold

The catastrophe

But you can’t help but read, I can’t help but write

The tasers, headlamps, and body cams

The prisoners, the sentencers, the tweeters

They don’t scare me

Not nearly as much as I scare myself

Digging up these solemn regrets

And showing them off to the world

As if I were a vessel of troubled thoughts

With nothing left to give

What Words Bring

I had to get rid of me

To find Me

The suicidal depressions

And disappointment brewed

From pornographic misconceptions

The boiling, bawling anger I couldn’t control

Tearing myself from the flesh I called home

Descending into the valley, alone

I couldn’t come out until I figured how

Embrace my unique in a cookie cutter world

Screaming and crying until my nose would bleed

I was lost, so lost, it would seem

But when I went to sleep, I prayed to the walls

Please help me, lead me to something better

Something bigger and brighter than me

Everything in my eyes is failing, and I fell

Into dreams I haven’t had before or since

Wash my hands clean of the past

And embrace the new Me, the one you read

I don’t know what my own voice sounds like

Drowning in a chorus of many voices

Some needs are prioritized over others

But I always come back to the poet in Me

For words give me peace

Neither life nor death can bring

Bored (Simply Writing About Autism)

I became bored

Simply writing about autism

I felt like every one else

Just going on about the downfalls

The misery, the mistakes

It shouldn’t be ignored

But it has its place

I call it An Aspergian’s Chemical Romance

Because I mix love with the acidic burn

Of a childhood gone to waste

The adoration of poetry and prose

Through writing, failing, and gaining age

Withstanding the onslaught of emotion

And fear of being lost without a cause

This place became my refuge and devotion

Another round of poetic potion

Soothing rough edges of a world gone awry

Each line, each time, I raise the white flag

A sign that no matter what they call me

I will always be happy with how I’m made

I stain your glorious day

With a discord and blight

So you may never forget in your riches

There are those killed by your might

I felt with each breath a great pain

Now gone, this desire to feign my name

Apparitions

Sometimes, I can’t help myself

I just want to be noticed

I sit back in the shadows, listening

Pondering the words of those around me

Writing them down to question later

Or to inspire another line

The louder wins, the boldest wins

The angriest wins, the cunningest wins

But what if I am of all them and none?

Some days I am bold and reckless

Others timid and reluctant

A mighty pendulum I sway on any given day

And you might hate me for it

You can’t read me, deceive me, figure me

That’s fine, I can’t read you either

As we are nothing but phantoms

Of the others wishes

Two apparitions of the night

Nobody Listens To Me

Why should I listen

Nobody listens to me

When I say I’m tired, pouring on the pain

Becomes involuntary

Like the assumption that I’m slower

Or not there at all

Because I’m so still, so quiet

Thinking, wondering, adding

Really, you should try it

But don’t ever ask how I’m feeling, no

They only see what is thought to be insolence

And I became the last one picked for anything

I become the last on their minds, if it all

I become the first to reply, and the first to fall

Somehow I thrive and relish it all

The agony of being the only one in the group

Without someone who you’re close to

Who understands you, who cares about you

What I would give for a perfect son like that

But what I wouldn’t would be a longer list

Because in the space of time I am missed

I refuel with the words of my ancestors

Fellow writers, and leaders that inspire

If anyone is listening to me, it is them

Through the pages of history I am restored

Vindication shall be mine, and more

I’m Okay With This

Got a knack for poetry

Crafting heartfelt lines

Borne of an outsider

Watching the world go by

Never done what people said, got into trouble

World’s not kind to my kind, be in my bubble

Silently preying on those with open hearts

Check my blogs, see a lot of orange dots

I didn’t make a lot of friends when I was young

But when you comment “well done”

“Amazing” and “❤️

The words become alive, the evil undone

My father wasn’t kind to me, but you are

And I’m not finished, but I’ve come far

My life is a battleground, this means war

My heart is a bunker, these words mortars

My spine is a fortress, these tears are arrows

Tipped with fire

The invisible wires around my people

Will one day fall as I climb the steeple

Of supremacy and statues

Identity and virtues

But until then, I’ll keep writing

And you keep telling me how you feel

We’re connected, you and I

Even on a technological level

And I’m okay with that

The ABC’s of Me

The ABC’s of me

Autistic, because where else to begin

Broken from the people who discouraged me

Cunning developed from outwitting them

Dark lines brooding in irritated waters

Eventually becoming open to your company

Forever hating and loving it

Gone before you ever said goodbye

Headed to the outside of your inside

Incorrect politically because I like action

Juxtaposed is male strength

Kissed with emotion fragility

Lined inside a boy turned man still child

Made to write, man of words never enough

Not only written or spoken, but merely dreamt

Outstretched hands for a woman’s grasp

Perfectly aware of their unawares to my truth

Questioning why I just don’t tell them

Resting assured that they already know

Still afraid of what the future has for me

Testing my boundaries every day

Understanding growth is ugly and beautiful

Voicing my concerns with maturity

Warring to find the source of my strength

Xylophones were hated in youth

Zenith not nearly reached

What Does It Mean

I want to be friends

But I’m a terrible friend

I reply

But what does it mean to reply?

Is it simply agreeing

Or following the hints at a greater point?

I don’t know

I want to be loved

But I’m a terrible lover

I love

But I honestly can’t explain the feeling

And I dunno if anyone’s ever loved me back

Is it actions? Is it words? Both? None?

I don’t know