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




Love, Sway This Aspergian Mind (The Hole Is The Likelyhood Of It Happening)


First off, I joined Facebook. You can find me under my name, Devereaux Frazier. Secondly, I got the comment thing figured out. Some of my comments on some blogs were being caught as spam, which is weird (I don’t leave links or the like), but others didn’t and everything is okay.

Tonight’s poem is on love, and all this Valentine’s Day stuff is being beamed into my head and I feel terrible. I’m single, and it sucks. Thankfully, it’s just one day, but boy…I’m counting down the hours till it’s over. I’m tense, disappointed, and hopeful for a new life, and I hope this poem conveys that…(I chose a murky painting, because that’s how I’m feelin’)


Aspergers keeps me from connecting

and in shyness I go on letting

sweet girls go by

I wish I had one

just one

Sway my mind


Another morning

another sunrise

Look! It’s almost time

to put on my disguise

so that they never know

that I think too slow

and love

that special love

I’ve never known


I guess you could say

that it’s not meant to be

that I’ll always be my own special lover

Content, but lonely

True, but only

and the chapter is the same, every single day


Confident as I am

I’d hate to die alone

Honesty and truth, I’ve sown

but without the nurturing

of a special one’s sweet love

faded opportunity

before it reached the ground above


It’s not about money

it’s not about time

it’s about unearthing the treasures

that could very well be mine

but I’m ill-equipped

to search the mines

just some pointy sticks

A step above twigs

How could I find

even the tiniest of reserves

when after years of being burned

I burn out and give up the ghost


The shadow of something

I’ve never named

but wishing

to one day claim

No Easy button, no clues to follow

just a mire of faces

and anxiety to swallow


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,


I’m An Alien On The Wrong Planet


Today was awful. My weekly WAMTAC meeting (read here for more https://marylandpoetblog.wordpress.com/2016/09/09/remembered-for-centuries/) went poorly, and not because of anything anyone did, to me or else. I simply had a nervous breakdown today. I couldn’t talk, I didn’t want to talk, and I added very little to the group. I felt awful not contributing, but I couldn’t make the words come out. I feel like jumping off a bridge and ending it all, and I’m only feeling worse…


Come out of yourself


Surrounded by all these outgoing teens

and then there’s me

When you’re the only one

not talking

You realize

you’re a weakling


nothing worth anyone’s attention. anyway

So many thoughts

so much to say

but this will always be

the only way

I’m ever understood

and I’m older now

I should be more outgoing

I should

I’ll never get a job

or a wife


but often, being personable

is the last thing on my mind

I’m tired

of feeling left out

but when I speak

I feel stupid

shut your fucking mouth


how art can bring so

much out of me

so much good

so many words

and even more

the real me

the fucked up me

is left unheard

I want to speak out

but I don’t know how

so I’ll let the others speak

let me seem weak


this disorder

makes me useless

no girl

is dating a fucking poet

no artist

makes money while they’re alive

I’m as talented as Poe

dying slowly in my Baltimore home

Legendary like Shakespeare

wait, I don’t write erotica

this emptiness

is real

when the only one listening

is you

Fuck, they said this would get easier

life probably broker

and I’m still a loner