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

 

 

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Taking My Own Life

nano

I just might give up

on life

maybe get reincarnated

and allowed to make it right

everywhere I go

people seem to be laughing

and everywhere I go

the masquerade is crashing

I’m not ten anymore, I can’t hide behind my family

I’m nearly an adult, even though I don’t want to be

I don’t feel like I’m ready

I . Don’t. Feel. Ready.

I can’t make friends, my family doesn’t even like me

“he’s not much fun to be around” I heard my mom say

and brother and sister agreed

“he hears more than you think he does”

that’s also true

and it’s why I hate you

uprooted me out of my home

never gave me a chance to adjust

and threw me a few miles north

become a man I must

or risk losing all I ever had

which was just pens, notebooks,

a nearly full writing pad

just over 225 blog posts, three award winning articles

and one published in the October 2015 Edition

of Teen Ink

but they never let me think

the way I was created to

they just expect me to function

the way they do

no wonder I fail, you stupid asshole

excuse the profanity

but I just can’t take it anymore

no space to be an Aspergian

no space to be me

but underground has plenty of room

that I’m sure you can see

the tension is rising, the anger turning me raw

my mouth bleeds

from the pressure of it all

I read works of other aspies

and see how they overcome

(thanks Laina, Beth, Marisa, Keely)

(I’m sure I’m forgetting some)

but they can’t solve my pain

they can’t give me a family

that understands my name

talk behind my back, just like my Dad did

but told me he was this terrible person

and here you are, pretending to be holier than thou

I guess that makes you worse, then

all I’ve ever wanted

all I’ve truly wanted

was a family who understands me

someone who hears me

and someone who loves me

for who I am

not what they want me to be

not what their eyes can see

I am autistic, but human first

please, let me live happily

God forbid I tell them

how I feel

they’ll just shrug it off

the weirdo at it again with another squeal

so I bury it deep inside

deep inside my bones

it’s rotting my mind

stealing my time

and taking me away from home

or maybe I want it to

take me away from them

they don’t know me, they never will

I can’t be free, so to this heart

can I kill?

 

 

The Last Motion Of My Aspergian Tragedy

wamtac

Long after the sun has gone down

and eyes have fallen to asleep

do I walk alone in my home

and my thoughts begin to creep

up the walls

down my spine

in and out this mind

that’s always thinking of the next rhyme

I open the door, and feel the midnight breeze

smell of crabs and shellfish, a salty sea

in my nostrils

and sitting down on cracked concrete steps

I let it all out

these steps saw windows shattered one Fourth of July

these steps saw a nest of baby robins go goodbye

these steps saw my brother taken away

these steps saw my mother betrayed day after day

these steps rarely saw me as a young boy

lost in Chronicles of Narnia, and Thomas toys

and growing older, I found a knack

for filling rooms with wooden railway track

and summer’s went by, without a care

of what I would become, or where I might go

just let me grab my gloves and boots and play

all afternoon in winter snow

but when I turned thirteen

my life become hell, and a fever dream

plagued me night and day

not knowing who I was

and why I might say things that really hurt

it was honesty to me, I knew nothing else

I didn’t care if others felt bad

I was a mess, a living tragedy

until one night something moved inside of me

a desire to be heard

a desire to be known

a desire to create something on my own

afraid to try something new, I wrote slowly at first

and terribly, at that

it was a bunch of seldom used words and crap

because I didn’t know how to listen to my soul

I didn’t know how to play my role

and silence turned to rage

at the sight of what I become

new diagnosis, but same fears

and newly cried tears

lined the storybook of my life

but then I met you

along with others in the blogosphere

and with tender words, you brought me near

and showed me the way

how to write with passion with poise

and how to speak in quiet whispers

yet cause a great noise

I became a better writer

thanks to you

and I learned more about myself

and I knew that while I may be on the spectrum

and slower than the rest

I was always encouraged by you

to give my best

I am grateful to everyone I’ve met online

because you gave me a second life

and bought me more time

to discover who I really am

you saw the real me,

I just needed to see it myself

you knew the real me,

I needed to take it off the shelf

I wear it proudly, I wear it with honor

this Aspergian label of mine

and regardless of your expectations

I will let it shine

and as I crawled back into bed

the sun’s light arising

I smiled inwardly

these heartbeats, I’d no longer be denying

 

Recollections Of Youthful Corrections And What They Mean Now

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Say thank you

or please

Don’t forget to use a fork

when eating your broccoli and peas

Why are you tapping your feet

Stop making that sound

Why do you get so quiet

when she comes around

Why aren’t you listening

can’t you hear what I say

You ignore me, constantly

every single day

Why did you fail this test

when you claim to be better than the rest

And why can’t you sleep through the night

there’s something wrong, you’re not right

Why do always want to stay home

only weirdos want to be alone

Devereaux, look at me

your mood swings are driving me crazy

Me, me, me

but not you, you, you

if you paid attention

these symptoms wouldn’t seem new

My body is collateral damage

of a brains hostile takeover

and just seventeen years in

the course is hardly over

Sure I could do drugs

and calm the tension

Sign me up to snort some lines

off a prostitute’s ass

but what example would that be

to others on my path

So I do math

the best I can

and at making friends

I’m just another also-ran

But I write like hell

and on my thoughts you dwell

so that, like me

you can fight the bias and insecurity

that those on the spectrum face

we may be slower

be we’re still running this race

 

Just Leave Me Alone Tonight…

nano

Since my collegiate disaster, I’ve been feeling better. I’ve got a job interview on Wednesday, and I’m inching closer towards finishing my GED preparation. Given the results of my poll, I’m going to start posting my paintings/artwork from my weekly WAMTAC (Walters Art Museum Teen Art Council) meetings along with poetry. Despite the general content, I’m still me. Still the awkward, Aspie me. My WAMTAC meetings have been going better recently, but I’m still overly self-conscious of my mishaps. Numerous times I start a sentence, get nervous, and then drop the sentence. They probably think I’m stupid. Anyway, this poem is a collection of all the feelings and hopes I’ve had while I’ve been gone the last couple of days.

 

Dark night

tiny fright

just leave me alone tonight

tiny wish

and a crazy bitch

just leave me alone tonight

scribbled dreams

and an imaginary scene

just leave me alone tonight

broken dad

makes mom sad

just leave me alone tonight

alone at home

with wordpress emails filling up my phone

giving you an Aspergers tour

so I get a lot of Mystery Blogger Awards

just leave me alone tonight

The Chiefs blew another division title

it feels like the franchise is stuck in idle

just leave me alone tonight

Tyler, Sydney, and Tricie

They don’t miss me

just leave me alone tonight

Fall Out Boy

motivating this boy

just leave me alone tonight

I love good food

but I eat more than I should

just leave me alone tonight

Hero is Ben Affleck

just like Christian, autistic tendencies make me snap

I don’t mind volunteering

but people’s eyes, damn always peering

just leave me alone tonight

Dreams are just dreams

still staring at those too tight jeans

just leave me alone tonight

I have no friends

so to you, I press send

just leave me alone tonight

I hold this knife

to cleanse the strife

I’m gone tonight

College: Why I’m Incapable Of Functioning In This World

nano

I’m not going to spend many words on this, because it’s pretty simple.

My college experience lasted a big ‘ol two days. Why? Because I’m so stupid I didn’t realize when the financial aid advisor says “you can’t register for classes unless you have a GED or High School diploma”, you don’t then proceed to go to classes, rack up a $1700 bill, and buy over $100 worth of books. Books that I’m not even going to use. So, all that excitement is now a shitty, god-awful feeling that makes me feel like I’m utterly incapable of functioning in this world.

OH WAIT. I’M NOT.

Beyond the complete embarrassment and disappointment is the heart of all my problems: I can’t function in the world in it’s current format. I can’t get a job, I can’t make friends, I can’t even get along with people long enough to become friends, I can’t convince people of anything because I’m too shy and thus seem a nonbeliever myself, I can’t stand up for myself and usually let people run over me than speak up…the list goes on. When I was younger, I could get by with youth, or with the protection that family offers, but as I’ve gotten older, I have less of that protection and the world really gets to see the shitbag that I am. I CAN’T EVEN REGISTER MYSELF FOR A FUCKING COLLEGE COURSE THAT I NEED DAMN IT. But it goes back much further. In an interview for State Farm, when asked my biggest weakness, I said “working with people”. And to think I got upset for them not calling back.

“No shit genius. You’re applying for a people-centered position and your biggest weakness is people. Dumbass.”

I don’t know if I need therapy or a bullet, but there’s only so much of this I can take. The failures keep mounting, and I don’t have an answer. It’s been four years since I learned I’ve had Aspergers, and my biggest achievement is this blog. I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse. I can write and tweet all day, but I can’t do anything that helps my family, or my future, and I feel awful about it. I’m at a loss for any useful words.

At least since this fiasco is over, I can go back to reading everyone’s blogs 😦

YOU Are Why This Aspergian Writes

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Nearly 2,000 followers and over 100 posts later, I would have never thought I’d have this much of a following. I have so many favorites, and you all leave some really amazing comments. You’re encouraging, supportive, and also honest. We share ideas, and we help one another. I’m grateful to be part of this community.

Many times I’ve been asked why I write, and I think it’s very simple. Some will say because they’re bored, and others because it’s fun. My response is neither. I write to change perspectives. I write to change negative stereotypes around those on the autism spectrum. I write to give hope to those, who like me, were considering taking their lives because of depression, anxiety, and abuse. Many of you have shared their stories, and I’ve really taken them to heart, and they’ve inspired my words. Here’s just another piece of this brittle heart, hope you find it sweet….

 

They tried to break me

saying writing would never make me

aspergers would always betray me

Well I’m published now

and people read my words daily

about that Aspergers that made me

and now they can’t stand next to me

Because they can’t take the heat

when I spit these

words that burn to the core

raw pain that lives forever more

images of people that I used to adore

My dad leaving my mom, and me at the door

my past falls on me everyday like a bitter rain

and everyday I’m living a lie

when I tell myself I’m sane

I’m not sane, I’m insane!

Tortured by the man

I thought I called my father

but he doesn’t give a fuck about me

so why did even bother

wondering where he went and he’d come

in a pinch

Childhood kicked me

as my family ran past

my slow-stepping

mess-making ass

I thought I was destine to die

as life was passing me by

and as I sat with that bleach

in my glass, I said

“one more time”

but I saw a better person

standing in the mirror

and with the Word

I became a believer

No matter what they said

I’d be myself

No matter that they did

I’d put it on the shelf

cause I’m not living for them

I’m not living for their approval

I’m not living for the person I once knew

I’m dying for everyone on the spectrum

so they can live too

A Poem To A Dead Mother

dw

Tori,

they don’t know us

The stones

in the wet soil

the blood

and the little white dress it spoiled

The doctors who said “didn’t make it”,

and the plans it foiled

They don’t tell our story

The kisses

at three in the morning

midnight wishes

made as the cl0uds went storming

runny mascara on my sleeves

during your parous mourning

We knew them

They told our story

Rest now. I’ll finish that page,

Tori

 

Poetry Collection Inspired By The Walters Art Museum

Since I won’t be attending WAMTAC tomorrow (I’m really upset by that), I’ve compiled all my poetry that I’ve written there so far. These poems were inspired by the above pictures.

As I sit on the rock

warmed by the midday sun

I think about what I’m leaving behind

“Don’t leave me and Carson!”

I have to!”

“I know what you’ve done.”

I know. But I promise…

I promise you I’ll return under the summer sun.”

“But which one? I can’t bear the thought of being without you.”

“I don’t know. I may be gone but a short time, or it may be long.”

How will I know you’re okay?”

“When the crab of the night sings its song.”

What does that mean,

I don’t understand!”

“There is so little time, I must go

to the place of purple sands.”

“Then…then at least kiss me before you go.”

“You know I can’t do that, Heidi”

“Why not?”

“I have to be focused, hiding.”

I remember holding her head,

one single, golden braid in hand

before I turned my back on her

and departed my land

 

Fishes

and pennies for wishes

Diamonds

and dresses for kisses

Nothing but a windmill and church

to our right

So I’ll be under your window later

let’s come back tonight

 

Looking down the rocky slope

running faithlessly low on hope

I came here with a minuscule dream

yet, here I am, standing in the middle of a heart-warming scene

Running water, trees

a community! My heart cannot believe

that such an ending is possible

to a journey that was so impossible

 

The despair

is in the emptiness

The pain

is in the liveliness

of the sadness, of child

eternally bound with

mother, as in the womb

they are floating

in a sea of everything

If I could only

reach out and ease their pain

If only there was a potion

for the spell of death

For nothing they ever knew

would ever come true

cut off before

they could see the light

 

(Author’s Note: I took these pictures during my WAMTAC (Walters Art Museum Teen Art Council) meeting that takes place every Thursday from 4:30 to 6:30pm.Our group leader, Miss Kelly Laughin (top left picture, arms folded) is an incredible teacher, instructor, and friend. I joined by recommendation, and with a belief that this wasn’t for me. That quickly changed. She, along with my fellow artists, made our meetings an open and encouraging environment, regardless of background. Even though I’m not an “artist”, I joined because writing is one of the arts. I didn’t really enjoy being in museums before, but WAMTAC helped broaden my view. Now, I find it fun and exciting. I wasn’t assigned to take pictures, but I felt inspired to write.What better to do after looking at art than creating art?  You can visit Baltimore’s best art museum (in my opinion) Wednesday-Sunday 10 a.m.-5 p.m., and Thursdays 10 a.m.-9 p.m.)

 

An Aspergian’s Thoughts On A Neurotypical World

 

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This is a collection of poems I’ve written over the last month, regarding my life (and struggles) with Aspergers. Recently, I’ve been feeling…

Lost.

Depressed.

I went back and read these poems and I realized that my sadness was simply my aspergian self realizing the truth that we will never outgrow: as much as we try, or are forced, to be something or someone that we aren’t, the whole façade comes crashing down around on us. It’s a tempting way to live, if you can believe it. Contrary to what many may say, the truth about us is that we want friends, we want relationships, and we want to be active members of society. I’ve gone through many “friendships”, just to lose them and try again (in vain). Are we stupid? No. Are we blind? Not in the physical sense, anyway. Rather, the problems come when the outside world doesn’t accept us because of our dramatic differences. We want many of the things “normal people” want, without possessing the abilities they have to communicate, reciprocate emotions and feelings, and understanding nonverbal cues. This leads to failure and rejection,  and it can make us feel this life isn’t worth living. I felt that while for a while. It’s a deep, dark place I don’t want to go ever again, yet I’m brought to the precipice every time I miss a nod, or don’t respond immediately to a “hello” or “good bye”, or every time I lose a friend. These poems are small flashbacks to memories, tiny parts of a complex life, yet critical in making the whole of me.


(Regarding people who are afraid of Aspie’s and other people with autism)

You fear what you hate

and you hate to fear

because it makes you seem weak

because it makes you

human

(On losing a friend)

Watching you walk

into the fiery sunset

I try to hold back

but my cheeks are wet

I know you’ll never come back

but I know you

I love you

(On being betrayed by those who tried to use me)

Keep burning me

Keep  burning me

Turn up the heat a little more

and maybe I’ll spit the hot grease

back at you

(On daily Aspergian life)

Our suffering is internal

yet our march goes on

Our suffering is eternal

for our march goes on

Who hears a silent cry?

Who knows a dream?

(On life goals)

From a quiet and reclusive

nobody

To a quiet and reclusive

nobody

who knows why he thought

a lie

for so long

A football player to historian

to broadcaster

Who knew so little about himself

that he thought these dreams were real

You’ll never make it

nobody

You’re too quiet

nobody

You don’t talk enough

nobody

Go find you own way

nobody

So I did, I found my way

took me 15 years

of wash, rinse, repeat of

failing all the standards I

couldn’t meet

Now I’m a writer

award-winning

published

incessantly poetically

tweeting

poet

My life is one

of transition

But sadly

for those ahead of me

I’m not done

Where I am

is not where I’ve been

and where I’m going

is neither