Tag Archives: mental health

Silence Heals My Insane


There’s a silence

That heals the insane

The wild, racing part of me

Never kept in check

By a voracious heartbeat

Dying to love you more

But hiding it all in life

Manic meltdowns

Leading to tear soaked pages

And curses uttered

From bottomless agony

Never meant to harm

But to release me

From the grapple of

The darkness

I still somehow

Can’t escape


Playing To The Beat Of The Winds


silent rolling hills

grasses still

as the trees standing above them

watchful soldiers

on the eve of battle

there’s a flower garden too


and purple petals particularly pushy

each inching higher than the other

for light

red brick preventing

further advance

Stonewall Jackson

come again

there’s a pretty little girl

dancing in the middle of it all

serenity mixed

with delicious vulgarity

as played with herself to the beat of the winds

enveloped me

fully clothed

yet confidently nude

in expression

and in awe of wonder

there’s no one to tell her

how to dress

or how to live

so she danced

she danced

and everyone that came near her

became white as the milk

that dripped

from her bosoms



Daytime Is A Bastard To My Existence



Cast aside

torn apart

by wolves

picked clean by vultures

and sapped of any manhood left

by desperate bitches

wishing not to be able to walk

when morning light

strikes their thighs

still gleaming from my light

injected into their living

yet lifeless


trudging in the desert

frost bitten by the night

the moon closes the wounds

with songs sung by starlight

till I’m asleep in a dream

sunlight opens them up again

tearing my spirit

ripping the soul

daytime is bastard to my existence

and the clouds are the mob

mocking me with cover

only to reveal rays brighter


than before

eating food takes energy

and it tastes sweet for such

a short time

I wish it never did

to begin with

where I’m walking

mishappen footprints may tell

a flock of crows

drone on and on

If only I was David

I’d strike them with thunderous bolts

and eat their brains fresh

as nature

did to mine

when I was born

I was not given eyes

to see people

nor the ears

to hear them

I can only guess

how they feel

and predict after practice

what their words mean

those genuinely cunning

and others

desperate for a one night stand

they’re all bred

from the same cloth

and the fire

turns all to dust


You Want Me? Guess Again: An Aspergian’s Question To The Outside World



I get the feeling people love me, or hate me. Some people can’t stand my presence, which doesn’t bother me much because i probably can’t stand theirs, and then there are people that i just can’t seem to get rid of. Like the people that constantly message/text message/whatever me. There’s only a handful, and I mean a handful, of people i actually enjoy talking with. The rest I entertain out of courtesy. My pure aspergian self would just ignore them, but that won’t get me anymore. I used to do that when I was younger, and while I still struggle with daily conversation I’ve progressed a bit and faking it (because thats what it really is) to keep people interested. Still, I struggle in meeting new people and making people interested in me. To most people I seem fairly bland (God, family, school, writing, and my Chiefs. Wow.) and the fact I’m ugly too doesn’t help.

I don’t know how to make myself seem “cool”, and as I’ve gotten older I’ve stopped caring because “cool” doesn’t mean anything in the real world. I wonder what makes me seem interesting to some people,and not to others. It’s crazy, and furthermore, I don’t know how to respond when people say they like me. Aspies lack that “sight”, if you will, and so it only complicates things when it comes to social interaction. I turn away people that like me, because I appear to be unsure myself in what I want. Maybe I’ve turned away a few of you. I don’t know. Apparently you neurotypicals don’t just say “I like you” or “I want to be friends” and instead embark on long and ridiculous stretches of nonverbal mush.

Help me, please.Maybe I need a class on body language. Like, when chicks start opening and closing their legs. What does that mean? And why? Or when people lean towards you when talking? It feels SO DAMN WEIRD.

Ah, life. Thank god I can write poetry. The only way I can explain myself without going absolutely crazy.


I am

an Aspergian

often times


So, this is to the girl

who’s out there


I fall in love easily

Do you know

what you’re getting yourself into?

Do you know

what this entails?

Are you ready to pick me up

if I fail?

Will you be strong

when I am weak?

Can you make my heart


Will you leave me

if I fall?

Or what if

I don’t respond to your call?

When I want to be


Will you

still call my arms “home”

What if I don’t hold you

will you find someone else?

What if I can’t love you

will you leave me cursing myself?

What if I don’t understand the first time

or the second?

Will you wait with me

until the forty-second?

What if I don’t get up

because the world makes me tired?

Will you wake me

and make me inspired?

What if

I’m shy around people

Will you gossip

and encourage the evil?

What if I don’t

know how to dance

will you still give me

a second chance?

What if I don’t know

how to have sex

Will you fail me

like a second grade test?

What if I can’t

kiss you?

Will you forget that I also

miss you?

When I

don’t want to talk

will you stay by my side

as we walk?

When I want

to be silent

Will you shatter me as you

fight it?

I’ll never be

that guy

but can you

give me the chance to try

to not be someone

else’s dream

but to be my own

crazy thing

that hates crowds, spontaneity

and scraping sounds, lately

but loves poetry, nature,

and a girl named Demi

Maybe I’m a little weird

I’m sure you’d agree

But my heart may be open

for you and me

To Heaven, God, Nobody or Anyone Listening…


This last year has been one of the worst in my life. I know I talk about how well I know myself, and you all comment so often about how confident and honest I am, but that’s because I really haven’t talked about what I’ve been going through. The things I’m addicted to, the things I let my mind convince me to be true, and the things I’ve done in the past that I’ve since let go but still affect me. My trip to California was very relieving, but it also made me focus: I’ve completely fallen off the map this year, and I haven’t tried to fix it.

The reality is, I’ve bounced from condescending towards myself, to angry, to deeply depressed. I’ve gained crazy weight because eating is one of the ways I let go and forget about the pain in my head, and then I’m depressed because I look horrible and none of my clothes fit, and then I’m angry because I know I should have more self control, and then I’m condescending through pretending that it really doesn’t matter because I’m not really that big. I feel weaker, but in eating I don’t think about the anxiety, the worries, and the failure, so I feel stronger in some backwards, shitty way. I know its unhealthy to do what I do: eat, and eat, and eat, but I find myself lost in it all just to escape for a few moments.

That’s been a huge part of my struggles this year, but it hasn’t been the only thing.

I’m also addicted to porn. I know, it’s the nastiest, grossest, vilest, and destructive thing a teen boy could be addicted to, but I cant stop it. I get the urge, and I watch. I feel the need, and I watch. I don’t even like porn. I find it disrespectful to women. I think it’s destroying my life. I know I’ll never have a pure relationship with a woman (or anyone in general)because of it. I don’t want this to go on, but I can’t make myself give it up. It’s filthy, and I feel I’m wronging every last woman I’ve ever come across or talked with because of it. I know it will jade my perception of women; making me expect things from them that porn falsely portrays. Making me expect women to be a certain way around me when I know REAL women don’t have to show their tits to know they’re loved, or to know they’re beautiful. I wish I could apologize to each and every one I’ve ever watched, because I’ve seen something I have no right, no claim, to have seen. I’m not married to them, or even friends with them, so why am I enabled to see what I’m too young to even begin to understand. It’s perverted, it’s cheap, and I want to take back every last moment porn has taken from me. I have a dirty mind, and I want to cleanse it. I DON’T CARE if everyone else thinks pornography is okay. I know it’s wrong, and I want to turn the table. Wipe the slate. Turn a new leaf. Whichever fucking saying that fits this setting, I want to have it.

I guess I owe all my female followers an apology, because pornography is sexist. It objectifies women in the WORSE way, and I never want to make your sex out to be something that it’s not. I know I’m not deserving, but I need a chance at redemption.

I’m not a good person. I’m not even a person. I’m a worthless, useless, addict pervert that deserves nothing more than a noose around my neck. I don’t deserve your time, or your attention, or your care.




I was raised to be faithful, to trust in God and follow his ways. Porn may have me now, but it doesn’t own me. I have to rise up. I have to take a stand against this crummy, damned part of me that is trying to kill me. I don’t know when my time is up, and I’m trying to get this right before he calls me home. I want to make this right. I want to love PURELY. WHOLLY. TRUTHFULLY.

I can’t go on like this much longer.

I’m writing to you

from the dark

because I’m too afraid

to speak to you in the light

I’m gonna speak

a little informally

because I lost all formality

casting aside bitter life for sweet depression

I’ve spent the last year

trapped in a never ending twilight

and I’ve gotten so comfortable

I gave up the fight


I didn’t want to stop trying

but trying to be something I wasn’t

I got fed up with all the lying

How can I ever have her

perfect and true

when I’m not even a believer

in the one who sent you

I’ve grown fat

figuratively and literally

wasting time in the darkness

I’ve done much wrong, and shamefully

I dug deeper into despair

Bit harder into death’s apple

Sadness was my lair

Aspergers my grapple

my excuse not to push on

as much as it hurts

not to give everything I have

even if friendships never work

I lost the sight

for love, for life

Now I have to get it back

for love, for life

I’ve failed

so many times

and yet here he is

giving me another rhyme

The road to recovery

is long and hard

but I’m determined

to run this ball to the final yard

Returning the enemy’s kicks back

Tyreek Hill

Breaking my head over this neurotypical world

Jack and Jill

I don’t have

what everyone else has

but I’ve got a choice

to live this life, or to pass

I have no friends

and few I can trust

but that doesn’t mean I can’t try

persevere I must

God help me

fight through this

because without you

I’m useless

The road to recovery

will take time

but to get back this life

given by the divine is worth any time

I need my followers, my readers

to be there

Little words can inspire a leader

Please be there

So as you read

these words

know that a life is being changed

The offensive is now; it’s my turn

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


September 28, 2016: An Aspergian’s Reflection



Just three days till I leave for California, and I’m very excited. Not for the beaches ( I hate water), or the girls (we’ve been down this road), but for the experience. I’ll be going cross country and seeing so much of the beauty this country has to offer. I’m giddy at the thought of what I’m going to write.

Honestly, that’s how I look at most things I do. “Can I turn this into a poem?” is, seriously, one of the first things I think about before I do something. It mays seem crazy, but that’s how I think. Even if it’s something that I hate (like going somewhere where I know there will be lots of people), sometimes I can make myself go if I can get some prose out of it. Whatever gets you through, right?

Anyway, about this poem. I wrote this after a particularly rough day and I felt like dying. I don’t know what happened, or what was said, I was just having a sad day. A lot of times, when I’m having bad days, I have to just sit down and reflect. Sometimes my reflection makes me sadder (and yet happier, because I’ve recognized the problem, which s0metimes is sadder than what I was already sad about), but other times it takes me somewhere else entirely. I think this is one of those moments….


Let me start first

by saying

I never quite understood your thirst

for wanting to be alone

You have a sister, a brother

A struggling father, yes,

but an ever-dependable mother

and not just a house, but a home

Maybe the neighborhood wasn’t the best

True, but I can think of worse

At least you had a place to rest

without the words “city” or “county” attached to it

You were kinda banged up

I remember the wheelchairs, the endless white sheets

You hung tough

and it made me better, made you better

You didn’t know who you were

Tried to find it in

videos and pictures of her

and everywhere besides where you should

Now, let me apologize

because much of what you saw

were lies

and yet you were never convinced

There was a spark in you

a desire, a light

that came on in you

and I wanted you to let it shine

I made you

go to broadcasting camp

even though we both knew

you’d never make it

I made you

take voice lessons

even though we knew

you were flat

You failed at these

(This you know)

When you failed to see

I had to help you

Your ears started to open

You started to get it

As the words kept flowin’

You started the football blog

You loved to read

I made sure of it

because this skill you would need

very, very soon

One morning you wanted to be

a writer

And I could see

the clouds parting above you

So you went to writers camp

found your niche

and left unsure of your impact, your stamp

but that’s okay, you’re getting started

You started writing

and you loved it

New things you started trying

like fiction, some didn’t work

Aspergers, you used to hate

but three award-winning pieces later

you see how much you can relate

when you let yourself go

You attended writers camp again

this time, with a little fire

You had your own little spin,

because I was controlling your top

Let the emotions flow,

no matter how they come out

Let your anxiety go,

for once!

This was your last year

You left your mark

all-in-all conquering fear

How I love how much you’ve changed

From this shy,

reclusive teen

who’s overwhelming response, to cry

and wish to die

To someone

who knows who he is, what he can do

and no one

can take his joy

Okay, you’re still shy

reclusive, and quiet

but now you know why

and you’re okay with that, now

You’re still ways away

and that might discourage you

but I’ll be there, whenever you pray

Don’t let that escape you

Don’t be afraid

and don’t worry about that girl

She’ll find you some day

just trust me, like you used to

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


An Aspergian’s Thoughts On Loneliness


This is one of the more challenging emotions of Aspergers. It’s the worthless, lifeless feeling that you can have when you’re the oddest, weirdest, and most unlike anyone else in the places that you frequent in your daily life. I don’t do the things most people do my age (My life occupation is a writer, despite being in an age group that sees writing as a waste of time), I don’t say the things most teens say (you won’t find me using text lingo, or using much profanity), and I don’t do what most teens do (writing poetry, reading classical literature, and tweeting about Aspergers). I am not ashamed of what I’ve chosen to fill my life, but it only compounds the loneliness I already suffer. I don’t relate to many teens, because I’m so different, and it makes it that much harder to make friends. To teens these days, who go out, have other friends, do “fun” things, and have endless things to talk about, my latest poem seems rather boring, and coming from someone like me, completely not worth their time. I don’t know how to make myself seem “cool”, so I recluse to the back of the room and wait to be called on. Maybe it’s not about being cool, I understand that, but it seems like I’m always forgotten. People don’t remember me, even if go the same places over and over. I know its the aspergers, and my very quiet demeanor makes me easy to forget, but that doesn’t lessen the pain. It’s a horrid feeling for someone to remember your family members, but forget you, even though you all went out together.

On to the poetry….


I wish they saw me

and I could stand out

I wish they heard me

above me my boiling doubt

I try to scream out

but I’m barely heard

above my broken heart

and those unshakable verbs

“Shy”, “depressed”, and “cold”

I can’t say my name

“You’re weird,” I’m told

and every day is the same

Have you ever been told

that you’re rude

for no other reason

than that they don’t understand you?

The pain is real

and it has no name

You will never feel

this burning rain

and thunderstorm of sadness

that I can’t escape

it leads to madness

and drives me to date

the loving curves of knives

and the beating heart

of a scared life



without stopping


without thinking


without knowing


without hoping



that the distance will change

the appearance

expecting the time to change

the supposed

and expecting you to change


I live more

when stopping

and letting others

walk by

I see what

they could never

(Note: I’m getting published on Spillwords (AGAIN) and I’ll be sharing it with you once it’s posted. Stay tuned!)