Check Please (I’m Tapping Out)

Are you happy now

With the way I turned out

You tricked me out, flipped me off

And scorned me before the world

Aren’t you delighted

With the scars on my face, the crimson stains

Skin dry with hunger for belonging

Eyes wet with thirst for solace

Tears homeless in a sanctuary of brothers

I shiver in the arms of a cold blooded world

Acceptance is hardly an issue

I have not room to breathe

Nor vision to see, shrouded in mystery

Why some resent, but others tolerate

The bridge between the gap wasn’t mine to create

But it is to endure

Till a beginning that renews everyday

And an end that won’t come, in spite I pray

And that’s why they’re never answered

Because I’m angry and spiteful of my past

The things I’ve done I thought would never last

Yet here I am burying their ugly heads

But they breathe within me, you see

See, as long as I live they too continue deeds

Of anxious anger awaiting eruption

Self esteem pressure cooked and boiling over

Rotten glances at those who annoy

Everything hurts, the sunlight burns

The moon tases, the stars tingle

Looking at girls and remembering I’m single

Wondering how hard it is to mingle

Then I do it, and regret

I’m not ready yet (10 years later)

Check, please

I’m tapping out

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Between Bleeding and Breathing

I want to love you

But I can’t

There’s something sensual

And quite offensive

In the youth of your hands

Sometimes you’re fantastic

And I’d gladly lie by your side

Take up your mantle

Riding with you till the end of the line

Shadows in the foreground

Never scare me, never steal time

When I’m dancing with your darling

Sometimes you’re staunchly impossible

And I’d gladly take your life

Watch the crimson run from passionate eyes

You were never meant to go on

Only die by my hands, in every possible

Rendition of time

But time does tell me, you’re somewhere

In between

Killed and to be killed for

Beating and breathing

Bleeding

From the finality of lust

Bleeding

From the hatred of your breath

And I turned you to dust

Finches In September

Cut

To the bone

Stripped

And stoked in his fire

Cinders and ashes

Became my home

Trapped in neverland

Ceasing to breathe, living to die

The journey is a pathway unknown

Seeds of slaves are sown

In the conformity of words

I do

And we don’t fight fair

I do

We ruin each other

Dreams in the dark

Looking away in the day

Fellow human is not my master

Yet I was a slave

I loved your ways

Your fucking, breaking, bleeding ways

Then the finches of September

Whistled a new calling

And from now one

I’d rather be lonely

Then be at home

With a terror

Left Of My Life

One light shines

over the alley

Dimly flickering

Watching over the darkness soundly

I peak an eye to wonder

At the reflection it casts

It resembles mine

Lost in the mire, trapped in the fire

Choking on flames, hardly fine

Afraid of the cleansing light

Running through desert, poisoned by my body

Flying through oceans, ridiculed by my mind

Cursing through forests, fucked by time

My eyes are a sign

I am hardly broken

That is quite a compliment

I am broken, nest shattered

Birth possibly accidental, and I am a ruined rental

Destined for reconstruction

Little worth to be saved from reduction

I wonder at this alley’s light

It shines with the time left in my life

Not Disappointed With You

I’m not disappointed
No, not hardly
I’m a disappointment
That’s the essence
Of the presence, the lessons you learn
From failing at faith
Faithfully raising your hopes to get shattered
Pieces in rotation in orbit around the doubt
In your mind
All the time, you feel like you’ve made it
Level nine
Then something knocks you down eight times
Am I on ten yet?
I wish I could relate
I wish I could find a place
But I’m back in the back of the race
Reaching out like they tell me to
But when they build barriers
Not bridges, I’m left speechless
And defenseless
Breezes blowing through the holes left inside
Every day I say for the last time
But the idea stirs me
The possibility grabs me
And the reality throws me back
I’m never to have you
Never forever
No disappointment
Just reality

Beautiful. So. Fucking. Beautiful.

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Moonstruck
By the empty, vague
And eternally worthless
Promises
We were so young, easily confused
And betrayed by lust
We thought to angels as lovers
But the demons saw the stains of others
And through the slants in our eyes
They told a story
Anew with precious lines and petty lies
We were broken by the prologue
And the bridge was burned halfway
Because I couldn’t tell you to your face
And you only stared down at my hands
All the words I’d thrown, they were less than
Less than the moonlight upon our skin
Less than the starlight upon our sin
None of the lights above amount to any truth
None of the lights above could paint a picture
Of the sins in which we laid so clear
Yet I longed for your touch, it was sincere
The continuity I found in your lies
Reviving my dead beating soul with passion
Chasing the winds, falling through the clouds
Even as I’m writing I think of you now
So beautiful, so fucking beautiful
You don’t know how you’ve changed me
I smile when I was low
I cry when I was high
I breathed when I couldn’t stand
Because of you
I’m incomplete, overturned upon review
I’m failing, fragile, and fearful of the unsaid
“Go ahead, give it your best shot”
I’ve never been so afraid, to fail you is death
In my mind, it’s better I’d never been born
I love you like I do
I give to you the very best of me
And even in your smile
Even in your nod
I know it’s never enough

Screw Her

 

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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

 

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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

WAMTAC

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

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(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

because

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

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