Daytime Is A Bastard To My Existence

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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

souls

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

sharper

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

 

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The War Of Poetic Conviction

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Convention

waging endless war

against my unwavering condition

arrows of all kinds

and sizes

fly through the air in mass

darkening the sun as it rises

tipped with oil, tipped with fire

they rarely kill

but injure greatly

designed to cause will to waver

and crumble when the infantry

comes later

day and night the siege rains on

they cannot hold this city

but for so long

no food to re-wire my mind

no fountain to make me young again

cutting off my life support

the empty space I need to breathe

sanity drains from my mind

through an eternal sieve

even my blood turns a cold shoulder

like I’m afraid of living

the days of old

just when the night seems to end

the moon folds it’s hand

sneaking a cunning glance

at the sun and stars

as he pulls his winnings in a pile

the dawn turns towards the deceivers

eyes reddened with intense flame

with searing pain destroys the enemy

from this son comes poetic conviction

that topples the medical profession’s

worthless predictions

tone and diction, I’ve got it in my hand

to rally my soul brothers and sisters

it’s all part of my plan

The Good Doctor and Christian Wolf be damned

I’m tired of seeing us misinterpreted

given superhuman traits

just to make a cute story

our story isn’t for your entertainment

rather our struggles

cause lifelong derailment

tell them I’m coming

I’m going ham

 

The Love And Life Of Death

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The setting is a late May evening

and the sun is just beginning to wane

the grasses are as green as can be

the warm summer rays touch

skin darkened by the halls of recluses

and eyes drunk on the monotone beat

of a single heart

the horizon speaks to me

in ways no human could ever

color elicits emotion

only my darkest days would ever see

drooping sunset

with patch, see-through clouds

for skanky lingerie

calms me better than any

green eyed, freckled face

powered by an engine

stoked by fire of rejection

I reject the clown suit

appreciate the complexion

of life riding the fine line

life and death, I’ve seen both

lived and loved

both

I never knew

why the silence loved me so

treated me to knowledge

people seemed to refuse

I’m so hot

dirty mind, spinning you a web

of lust, lies

and forgotten faces

all in time

before the moon turns on her heel

and I fall into sleep

till our next divorce counseling meeting

 

You Only Know Who You Think I Am

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Poetically cunning

words leaving brains and hearts humming

and while you’re eager to read on

you only know who you think I am

late night writes with Pete Wentz in my ears

in attempt to ward off nightmarish fears

but I put on a smile to cover it up

so you only know who you think I am

work is mental drudgery, and family is worse

but my good moods come in spurts

they think I’m okay

but you only know who you think I am

inside I feel like I’m dying

and this week wants to make me stop trying

but I don’t tell you what’s really going on

and you only know who you think I am

I stand in the pouring rain

there’s little I like better

but you think I’m insane

and I let you believe who you think I am

I sit by myself, I have no friends

hell, it takes me ten minutes just to press send

you think I’m antisocial and crude

stupid world, you only know who you think I am

I write everyday

to reveal everything

and nothing

to make you think you know who I am

I am depressed, anxious, angry, and dejected

broken, shy, disheartened, and rejected

failure makes me afraid to try again

socially I have to pretend

I hope I’m not like this forever

because there’s gotta be someone out there

I just haven’t met her

or I did

and I failed her

(now I’m regretting everything again)

you no longer have to guess, now

you know who I really am

 

Autism Awareness Month Post Four: Things That Make Me Anxious

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As an Aspergian, anxiety is easily my biggest problem. From sudden things like a last minute schedule change to watching your city burn thanks to mindless thugs that the media deem “peaceful rioters”. Even things that I do regularly can be a source of anxiety, like my weekly Teen Art Council meetings. How people perceive my aspergian tendencies, and how I try to blend in a world that seems to be always staring are thoughts I have all the time. In this month of “awareness”, I figured I’d talk about what makes me anxious. (If you’re on the spectrum, I’d like you to tell me what makes YOU anxious in the comments below.)

Last minute anything: Since I live extremely anxious, anything last minute is awful for me. It’s why I hate surprises, even good ones (like on your birthday). Schedule changes also make my head hurt, because I have to suddenly rework what I was going to do. I know, “sudden change is part of the real world”, but so is aspergers and the anxiety that comes with it.

Horror movies: I can’t watch movies with extreme blood and gore. Since I think the worst of any and everything and everybody, I used to have terrible dreams as a kid (and occasionally, nowadays) that someone would torture me and feed me to ghosts, just to reincarnate me and do it all over again. The fear was real…

New foods: I literally eat the same thing everyday, all the time. If you took me to a restaurant that I’d never been to before, I’d pick the closest thing to what I normally eat, and eat nothing else. My routines are rigid as hell (aspergers 101), and breaking them gives me headaches. My family always asks why I get the same thing when we eat out.

Scraping metal pans: Ever run a knife or fork across the bed of an iron pan or skillet? That sounds literally made me cry as a kid, and I could never figure out why. I’m super sensitive to sound, and that is my most hated sound. Just thinking about it makes my skin tingle.

New people: Regardless of whether they’re good or bad, any new person makes me anxious. Making a good impression, learning about them, figuring out who and what they are, wondering if (based upon age) if they’re interested in me…all of that is really, really hard on me. I’ve gotten better, because a few years earlier, I might have never even talked to people. I blew off a lot of people back then.

Phone calls: One of my secret fears, phone calls have always been hard on me. Even if I know the person, phone calls are always a struggle. Not knowing what they may or may not say, because I can’t tell by their body language. There’s this girl I’m (trying) to be friends with, and I call her every few days…a lot of times I won’t say anything because I get so anxious. And speaking of that…

Girls: I guess it’s because I have more in common with most guys than most girls. I can talk to any guy (for the most part), but put a girl in the room and I lose all sense of grip on the human language. I stutter a lot, and I stop speaking mid sentence (more often than not) because I get so anxious. I know it has to make me look stupid, but I can’t help it. And, Lord help me if I actually like the girl…that actually makes it worse. That’s why I stopped trying to make girl-friends, because the anxiety I’d feel at the time outweighed the potential benefits of having her as a friend. Maybe you’d consider that shortsighted, but if you were on this side, I bet my bottom dollar your opinion would change.

I guess that’s why I seem better on social media and on WordPress, because if face to face I really, really struggle talking with people. I normally just talk at them. You know, eye contact and all.

Heights: I’m afraid of them. Period.

Gatorade: If you laughed, it’s fine with me, because I think it’s crazy too. But I really hate this drink. I had it once I felt like throwing up, and of course, my brain associated this drink with bad feelings, so now I can’t stand the sight of them.

Friendships and marriage: This is probably why I’ll have neither. Friendships make me anxious because I don’t know how to even be friends with someone…I mean, care about someone’s thoughts and feelings, listen to them, and do things with them, but other than that I’m pretty clueless. And marriage? Ha ha ha I couldn’t imagine anyone even wanting to, and nevermind how stressful that would be. I wouldn’t even know the first place to start.

I hoped you enjoyed my list, and tomorrow (or Saturday), I’ll have a list of things that I love about being on the spectrum.

 

 

 

What Only Soul Mates Can Hear

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 Neon lights

line my trip home

passing by dimly lit homes

with my head, alone

in silent wonder

at how one word

can tear a life asunder

ripping hearts out

at the seams

and replacing them

with incredible dreams

never cultivated, never imagined

but fulfilling every wish ever fathomed

as I write, looking at the stars

just passing by

I think of you, sparking somewhere far away

with swooping motions you draw me a picture

and at first, I don’t understand

but with a soft voice, she takes my hand

and pulls me close to her beating heart

suddenly, I see it

I see it all

and I love it

these stars have been aligning

for years

and with the sun no longer shining

I can see it clearly

with silent words

that only soul mates can hear

I plant a soft kiss on each cheek

and put the sword to each of our fears