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




Panic Stricken Heart Of A Lonely Autistic

Staring at sunlight

falling behind fading clouds

as the crickets sing each other to sleep

I turn away from the world

slide down the wall

trying to feel where the breaths hurt

the floorboards creaking

and the backdoor shaking

brings back memories

I tried to put them out

no amount of rent could cover the charges

of eighteen years of pain

but they don’t listen to me, they don’t care

they made fun of my name

Fearing the worst, I back into a corner

putting my hands in front of my eyes

maybe they’ll take me

take me away for good this time

that’s foolish, because they never do

enough hate to paralyze you

but just enough love to open you up

to make you do it all again

the lights outside try to find me

but I’m hidden in the deep

you can call my name

but I’m hidden in a dream

the rabbit hole

that never ends

the doctor who said I was healed

was playing pretend

I live life one third open

and three-fourths closed

hating your presence mostly

but secretly wishing

 you’ll take me home

to a place of sunshine and clouds

flowering fields and trees

to happily cry under

and removing the doubts

that have plagued me for so long

I, finally, can lift my head

and sing a happy song

If only such a place

existed in my world

If only…


I Take Your Equality And Stick It Where The Sun Doesn’t Shine


 I don’t believe you

and it’s not hard to see why

You all claim to be inclusive

but judging by your treatment of us in the classroom

it’s clear that’s another of your lies

Failing to teach to the strengths of all your students

you lose ones that struggle with forty peers

so nine to three becomes useless

and the threats on the stalls add to their fears

And how about friendships?

You’d rather have ten see-through, silicon barbie dolls

than two that tell you that the makeup isn’t helping

You’d rather rub your ego between the ears

and distance the one who really cares

but doesn’t show it

and gets left home the day of the fair

And the adults? You guys are full of sick shit

Date our girls just because they’re disabled

and capable of frisky things in bed

Curse your life, curse your genitals

and I hope you never wed

And some never get that chance

because they’re too emotional

too easily cracked

and in sensuality they might lack

but in common sense and honesty

they’re overflowing, along with creativity

and that’s damn good enough for me

The workplace isn’t any better than the previous two

and people are quick to turn on you

if you don’t “play the game”

We don’t play games, we don’t tell “little white lies”

(Lies aren’t tangible objects, so they have no color)

We are honest, we are direct

We’re to the point

A blank check

Our bluntness hurts

your tiny worlds of useless chatter

and IQ-lowering small talk

I wish it were small,

and didn’t go on for hours the way it does

when I don’t just get up and leave

And you can believe

that we’re just “rude”

along with the idea

that we’re always in a bad mood

Just another page in the trilogy

of these neurotypical crooks




Purging The Disdain Of Disability and Disorder, Even If I Die



Burn the people who hate you

burn them all

Their homes are dens of witches

Cut them off

Their children are the offspring of robots

Mangle every wire

Force fed through tyranny

lies, manipulations, and coagulation

of non-stop greed

but with fire and will

our people, hiding in the midst of crusades

will be freed

Burn the books

that say we are not good enough

The words are poison from vipers

united to drown out our sounds

Their institutions are whore houses

where big bosses come to play

We are children, we are adults

and we can live just as you claim “life” should be

In the dark they will be drowned

They don’t know what we do in the dark

the blueprint is just being laid

They don’t know what we say in the dark

with the muses we communicate

But in time, when the clock strikes three

we unleash war and lighting quick fatality

to your rules, to your ways

to “here’s what you should do on this day” and

“you can only join us if you act this way”

Life is for all

not just those who look you in the eye

not just those

who stay up all night

not just those

who have a different girl every day

Not just those

who always knew how to play

If I die tonight,

then let these words guide you

If I die tonight,

let their expectations

be their condemnation

If I die tonight,

be rigid, be painfully honest

It breaks up their small talk,

and destroys their chatter

If I die tonight,

write your book

your poem


the next planet

or Universe


the next masterpiece

Sing until they box your ears

Be your autistic, aspergian, rigid, socially struggling,

bad handshake giving, party pooper self

because to be you

is the greatest gift

and the deepest wound

they cannot heal


Just Because It Was Bad Doesn’t Mean It Wasn’t Beneficial




Old songs

traverse paths so long

Long ago, seeming to be the best way

they robbed you blind

stabbed you in the heart

drank the blood

and took everything but your life away

You gotta live with more

than battle wounds

and traces of war paint

You have to live

with real wounds, too deep to relay

real holes in this breakable skin

Maybe the rape was a punishment for your sin

or maybe that’s what the therapist wanted you to believe

Stupid white jacket and fancy car

she’ll go home, pretty and happy

and plenty of money in her ceramic jar

It’s easy to show the way

from a castle on a mound

but harder when you actually live the life

and everyday is spent retreating from the battleground

Life kicks your ass

nine times out of ten

then sends out scouts

just in case you didn’t get the lesson

“Oh, you’re doing fine, just keep believing!”

Easy for you to say, it’s not your arm that’s under this knife


People are hilarious, just comical

thinking a pill, or a diet, or exercise

will cure the ill

“People with aspergers just need more practice around people”

The fuck?

Did your clearly non-existent brain get run over

by a twenty-two ton freight truck?

You can’t practice

late night shivers or midday fears

of a birthday party

or get-together

that’s unfortunately so near

You can’t prepare

for anxiety

despite speaking politely

and wearing nice clothes

they make fun of you

because “playing the game”, you just don’t know

People who seem to have all the answers

are the furthest from the problem

and when shit hits the fan

mysteriously, you can never call them

They don’t have the balls

to live in the midst of raging, internal fear

They don’t have the guts

to swallow anxiety, and play nicely

day after day, for seventeen years

I’ve left people behind

Not because of hate, but I just don’t have the kind

of mind to hide my weakness

Be the Charming

to your Cinderella?

You’d find my social graces alarming

and in a crowd, I’m speechless

Folie et deux

you, my heart and you, my head

Every step

I dread


An Aspergian’s Letter To Old Friends


If you’re an old friend (or if you’re not, but identify as one), then thank you for impacting my life in the time span we knew each other. If not, then read it as you normally would…also, my posts this month have been on the melancholy side. I’m trying to change that, but when I put my pen to paper I just get sad feelings. I’m feeling better after last week’s depressed state, but nothing “happy”. If  everyone leaves something (a word, a phrase, an image, whatever) positive in the comments, I could use that and turn it into a poem. Maybe that’ll help. In the meantime…

Chest burning

memories of the past keep occurring

I loved the way you laughed

I could listen to it all night

and like a comet you dashed

leaving me surprised

we used to talk everyday

but for some reason the message box got empty

and though I had plenty

more to say

I couldn’t muster the strength to ask

if you were okay

and is it okay

to drop off without saying why

I couldn’t do that to someone else

No, I wouldn’t even try

What did I say to you

Did you know what I never knew?

You played me for a fool

and now I’m begging you

for the truth

It haunts my days, keeps me sleepless at night

wondering if I did everything right

and am I right

to keep wondering

if you’re there

when you have no interest in me

I guess life isn’t fair

and I’ll pay my fare

but I want to get my money’s worth

don’t just leave me

like I have no worth

and it hurts

to be left alone

wondering what to say

when I pick up the phone

hoping not to say

whatever sent you on your way

Don’t forget me

that’s all I ask

from you,


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 https://marylandpoetblog.wordpress.com/2016/12/11/an-aspergian-sheds-some-tears-and-light-on-his-personal-abuse-story/comment-page-1/), 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




An Aspergian’s Revolt Against A Neurotypical World



and ice


more than twice

Beat you

to the punch

yet I was murdered

twice as much

Thought I could

show myself to you

but the only thing that happened

was that I was used by you

You took my strengths

and made them a target

on my back and displayed

my weakness, a market

of pain

and fear

of red eyes

and tears

I could never

show my face again

because my heart

has been rent

in two

no, four

the free-spirited boy you knew

no more

Now I hate

the light of day

and loathe

when people say

“Devereaux, how are you doing today?”

Please, spare me your shit

Autism is made up, remember?

You don’t mean it, and you know it

I’d rather be alone

and friendless

than among the company of panderers


pretending to care about my needs

when they can’t spell my name

pretending to know me

but their actions remain the same

Go ahead

talk your shit

but I’ll boil till the brim 

and strike you quick


An Aspergian’s Thoughts On Anger


I can be a very angry person. It doesn’t take much, either. It’s not a chip on the shoulder thing, but rather an aspergian thing. The common misconception about us is that we are emotionless, but the reality is that we feel emotion VERY deeply. Now, whether that’s happiness, sadness, or anger depends on the day. I’m rarely on the high end of happiness, but it’s the sadness or anger that really swings. Some days, like a couple weeks ago, the mere mention of a single word can make me tear up in an instant. Other weeks, it’s the exact opposite. I used to have an anger problem as a kid. I remember being six or seven and just uncontrollable. I broke things, I smashed things, and I made an all around mess when things didn’t go in a way I didn’t understand. Much of it was because of things my dad would do, and I fault it was justified, but as I grew up I realized I couldn’t let someone drive me to such madness, even if he was wrong. Nowadays, thanks to more prayer (and writing) it’s not much of problem, but every once and a while it flares up and I have to remember the verse “do not let the sun go down on your anger”.

What’s also troubling is when the anger and sadness combine. Yes, that can happen. I can be angry about something, and then I find myself in a corner bawling my eyes out. That’s happened too many times to remember. I don’t know how it happens, but aspergians are more emotional than we get credit for, and the overwhelming chaos is sometimes too much. Other times, I can be crying and then I become a raging fireball. That’s happened before too. I get upset over something, and I go from vulnerable to overly aggressive. It’s caught some by surprise, but it often leaves me wasted, and I often revert back to sadness because the emotions range so far, so quickly, I can’t keep up.

People ask what makes me angry. There’s not a lot, because some things I don’t register. Meanness makes me angry, as does lying and semantics. Memories make me angry, too. I hate to think of my kid days, because I remember so many of the bad things I get worked up.  Politics also makes me angry, mainly because of the blatant ignorance and stupidity of many involved, but also because I’m black and thus I have to be democrat and hate anything conservative.

This will probably be the last “An Aspergian’s Thoughts On…” post for a bit, because I’ve got a lot more poems that don’t deal so much with Aspergers. Thursday is also drawing near, and I can’t wait to share photos and poetry regarding my trip with you. I’ve received a lot of positive feedback, and I’m grateful to all of you who have taken the time to read through my shyness and confusion and listen to the message I’m trying to say. The kind words are really fun to wake up to, and when I’m feeling down (which is often, like, right now), they make my day a little easier to traverse.


Let all your bad dreams

become her paralyzing fear

Let all your unrequited desire

become her deathbed wishes

Let all your tears

become her drowning whirlpool of kisses

Let all your lonely nights

become her sunny day, cloudy and drear

Let your noose

become her handcuffs

Let your cupped hands

become her muffler


Blue sky

green trees

is what I used to see

before crimson skin

and black heart

possessed me

I used to see

big smiles

and bright light

before brown-stained tiles

and black bands

escalated my fright

I used to see

open hands

and willing hearts

before time

and fatal friends

tore me apart

Now I see burn marks in rugs

from candles knocked on the floor


but forgettable

because I won’t see them anymore

Now I see melted skin

from lighters gone awry


and memorable

because I can’t forget a lie