Screw Her



She didn’t return the call

some never do

I guess it wasn’t meant to be

me and you

I’m just a sucker for a good story

so don’t threaten me with a good time

only to punk out when love’s on the line

clouds gather in disapproval

rains called in for immediate removal

she bit my lip and poisoned my grip

screw her


The Problems With Aspergers and Shame



As me, Devereaux, I do a lot of things. I work at a coffee and donut shop. I write poems on the way to and from work. I listen to Fall Out Boy and watch American Dad. I read books and talk to my best friend about school and teenage life. I run this blog while submitting to various magazines, websites, and hope to have my poetry anthology published. I watch the Chiefs during the NFL season. As me, the aspergian, I do things I probably wouldn’t do if I weren’t.


Sometimes it’s because I feel the need to fit in. Despite being very understanding of my position in life, I still find the urge to want to be like everyone else. Five years later, and I still feel less than. Maybe it’s because I’m on the societal crust, but I’m just not always okay with being on the outside. I’ll push myself into places, conversations, and the like so I don’t feel standing alone. It’s easy to pick on the stragglers, so if I look like everyone else, nobody will suspect me. At least that’s the thinking. The problem is when I go overboard (on a personal note, I know no moderation. I either do too much or too little of something) people start to suspect things anyway. There was one time I was with this group, and I only talked to this one girl. I didn’t think anything wrong about it at the time, but then I realized how I distanced myself by picking and choosing who to talk to. As an aspie, I didn’t realize that people began to question my true intentions, and ultimately I pushed them away.


Other times I do things to prove a point. I’m extremely vocal about my condition, and I take it seriously. When people talk about autism and make jokes about it, I take it personally. I see how the media portrays us, and sometimes I take it in my own life to prove them wrong. I walk when told to run, and vice versa, because I’m not what they think we are. This usually leads to disaster, because I’m putting myself in situations that I might not even be ready for. I used to make friends with questionable people just so I could prove that people with aspergers can make friends. I now realize I was being dumb, but when you’re young you make those types of decisions. I didn’t want to be your stereotypical autistic.

The downside (if there is one) to being very aware about my condition is that I know immediately when I’ve done something very (for the lack of better words) anti-neurotypical. I’ve become very aware of my stutters, mildly incoherent sentences, or just plain silence when I really need to say something. It’s very uncomfortable, and the worst part is I know people are just as conscious of it as i. I’m not trying to, but I can’t avoid it, and once you’ve done it, like you can’t go back and fix it.

Maybe it’s not so much shame, but not being fully okay being myself, but that’s how it feels. Like I’ve done something wrong. I guess I still have a lot of growing to do.


Until next time

I’m Sorry You Birthed An Autistic


I’ve been called a lot of names during my years

jerk offs with egg heads for avatars

who never knew my wishes or fears

they didn’t care what I needed, or how I felt

just about the life they had been so unfortunately dealt

I’m so sorry you birthed an autistic

this isn’t the dream you wanted

but the drugs your partner did years ago

now have you haunted

I’m so sorry you have to live with an autistic

it makes you look bad, I’m sure

hand flapping and foot stomping certainly detracts

from your fake bravado and made-up demure

I’m so sorry you have to be seen with an autistic

you don’t look so cool now

when the person beside you covers his ears

at loud sounds

I’ve spent years feeling sorry

for people who care nothing about who I am

just a cute word they can use to impress friends

when chance shakes hands with a plan

just something to make dad feel ashamed about

for not noticing earlier, even though you yourself

no nothing about

my condition is a roadblock in your normal lifestyle

and you’ve cussed me out for planning things out

which, surprise

takes me a little longer while

but it’s okay, don’t worry you

I just keep it all inside

you say you had a hard day

if only you knew

invisible mountains mount heavy costs

until the heart struggles to beat

and the spirit finally declares she’s lost

slowly soul husband carries lifeless vessel

to rowboat tied to a dock

and under his arms he nestles her bosoms

and cries long into the night

the mermaids are bitter, hearing a song

more melancholy than theirs

and fish swim upside down in sadness

while the octopus is surprised

at the depths the chorus finds him there

when strength is breached

and the bridge does sleep

on ears run aground

only then does the struggle of a poet

become exponentially profound



Aspergian Flashback: Short, White Plaid Skirt and Knee High Socks


(This poem is less about the attire, and more about the girl in the attire. Much of my life is flashbacks, mostly of things I wish I did but didn’t…)

Tongue tied

in so many knots

mind wrapped around

hundreds of thoughts

I lose control

of my actions

hand flapping, foot stamping

and to the “normal”, many more inappropriate reactions

I just want

to share my words

and let these voices,

beautiful muses of a teenage heart, be heard

Most times

I say it in my head

but by silence

in silence, I’m led

If I was allowed one word

it would be “slow”

because one, constant speed

is all I know

I fly

by faces

and race

through places


any minute more

and I begin to wet the floor

with dreams

I’ll never see

and that girl

Oh, she’s only make believe

short, white plaid skirt and knee high socks

fading in the wind

over that pretty heart shaded by a grey hoodie

I’ll never win

I just want

to be seen for me

even if I present



An Aspergian Sheds Some Tears, And Light, On His Personal Abuse Story: The Aftermath


I told you that I’d write a poem based off this story (you should read the original inspiration first, here, and I will tell you that this poem was the most difficult piece I’ve ever written. It’s that I’m writing a particular poem, it’s remembering what happened and trying to piece it together with words. Each word is like a knife, re-opening each wound, each bruise, and every tear.

This post deals much more with the aftermath of the incident; how it changed me as a person. As someone that struggles with a anxiety and stress, I still don’t know what to think of that day. I still wonder if there’s something wrong with me. I mean, to be beaten in that kind of way, there has to be, right? I’m not perfect, and I’ve done things I regret to the fullest. Maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s the Aspergers, and maybe I’m as crazy as they say I am. Maybe I’m as rude, disrespectful, and inconsiderate as they I am. Maybe it’s because I’m sensitive, and I needed to be taught a lesson. Maybe I needed to be “toughened”. I’ve never been a tough guy, and I’ve never played a sport or done anything of the sort. Maybe that’s how Dad’s toughen up their sons. Beating them underneath beds. Yeah, that’s right. Give their kids hernia’s. How many hospital trips? Check ups. Uncomfortable handling, fondling…


I have an open mind

by choice

and a closed heart

by condition

I’m open to new things

but when I meet new people

I wilt inside my prison

Or I think the worst of them

because I’ve been broken

by so many others

Some people I appreciate

more than I should

because I need to fill a hole

and others I appreciate

less than others would

because I can’t see how much they care

With an open mind

I will probably accept you

but with a closed heart

you can only come so far

I am fragile

Snowflakes on a hot road

Fairies in the midst of dragons

I have to protect myself

from the unknown

and as loving as you may be

you are an unknown


like a disease


if you penetrate too deep

and I can’t let that happen

Maybe one day

my heart will open

to everyone

but for now

I haven’t figured out the code


you could

Maybe you could save me

from falling inside

the black

(Note: At the end of the year, I will post my 2016 Blogger Awards, appreciating the blogs I thought were the best this year. I’ll also be compiling my favorite comments, so I’m especially watching what you leave behind!)

California Blues: An Aspergian’s Exhaustion With Guilt




I never really left, but this is my first post in six days because I couldn’t get consistent wifi on the cross country bus trip to California, and this is the first time I’ve been able to use a device that could actually support WordPress. I’ve gotten some nice pictures, and I’m extra stoked because my sister’s competitions start today.

I haven’t been handling the people pressure, though. There’s thousands of people at this pageant, and because the city is so busy (thanks Disneyland) I don’t have anywhere I can escape it all. It’s depressing me, and I feel awful. I know, “you shouldn’t feel sorry for something you can’t control”, but every time I go out and see all these personable, outgoing people I can’t help but feel wrong…



Just plain stupid…

I’ve been writing a lot,  which has helped immensely, but it can’t taken away the ache and pain of this guilt that overwhelms me.


It’s stressful, but what choice do I have? Jump into the Pacific Ocean? I can’t do that. I mean, I could, but I’m not ready to end my life. That’s too finite, and I would feel awful leaving the people I love without any explanation. Besides, killing myself doesn’t fix anything and I become an awful example to all those who have my problems, and live on. Tomorrow…tomorrow…I have to see it, because it might hold my redemption.

I’m gonna put my defenses up, cause I don’t wanna fall in love. If I ever did that, I think I’d have a heart attack. Seriously, forget girlfriends/wife/etc, it’s not happening. Hopefully I’ll stop writing about it and write about something that I’ll actually experience.

Love you, Demi xoxoxo


Eyes straddle the swaying hips

of death

and even when the knife plunges deep

I bask in her loving breath


I have nothing else to love

but memory

and even memory

betrayed me for another

Another lover that loved

the way it was expected

Who could function normally

without being corrected

I was left empty

forgotten by all

remembered by none

and yet it was this

plentiful emptiness

that made me feel full


All this time

little did I realize

I was bleeding out

bleeding from the hell

bleeding from the heart

of everything I tried to ignore

I needed love

I needed her

I just didn’t know

how to ask


Wake me up

before I fall

before I become a victim

t0 the mess of it all

Don’t sing me a song

I’m too far away to hear those tunes

Mortal words cannot pierce these walls of eternal abyss

Don’t read me a story

I’m too deep within my own

Mortal man cannot break the spell




for spirit can still reach me

for hope is still near me




before I