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Wicked Mar 2018
As an artist I should love all colors.
As a boy I cannot love them all.
Browns
Blues
Purples
are colors I know too well.
They're the colors of bad days
And long nights.
They lead to tear stained pillows
and sleepless nights.
They’re the imprints of his rings against my skin
and his slurred words in my ears.
They’re a reminder that my father
isn’t a dad.
Wicked Mar 2018
I twitch
I shout
Without thinking
I move
I make noise

I don’t have any control

I ****
I yelp
Without thinking
I flick
I whimper

I never had control

I jump
I yell
Without thinking
I twist
I scream

I’ll never have control
Wicked Mar 2018
When things are always going wrong
you start to lose faith.
My faith in God is waning.
A God who loves his people,
wants them to live,
to be happy,
a loving God,
would let so many horrific things happen.
He let my heart be shattered.
He made me autistic.
He made me with Tourette’s.
He let my parents fall out of love.
He took my best friend.
I’ve lost faith in the god of deathless death,
pain, loss, and oppression.
*sigh*
Him
Wicked Mar 2018
Him
He told me I was beautiful
He made me feel loved
He kissed me softly
He whispered sweet nothings
He reached his hands
He touched me all over
I tried to speak
He kissed me harder
He held me firmly
He told me it was okay
He know I wanted it
He grabbed me
He kept me down
I couldn’t speak
I couldn’t move
I couldn’t say no
Wicked Mar 2018
The notebook beneath my hands
holds all my secrets
My fears and my hopes
My dreams and my nightmares
My pride and my shame

The pen between my fingers
bleeds ink onto the pages
My thoughts flow through it
My emotions flood through it
My feelings shoot through it

The pages enclosed in it
are tattooed with the years
My childhood marked on them
My youth etched on them
My adolescence carved on them

This notebook is filled
with things that make me
My history
My present
My life
Wicked Mar 2016
People are like snowflakes
At first they seem to be the same
A look closer reveals
No two are the same
In the end they were small
Just blips in oblivion
But every one is just as beautiful as the last

Their words are inky imprints in time
Like footprints in the snow they leave trails
To places beyond ourselves
Their words can be loud
Their words can be quite
They can be heard by two or millions
But each is just as powerful as the last
Wicked Mar 2018
I wake up
        head ****
        shoulder roll
        tongue click
I get ready for school
        head ****
        head ****
        groan
I get on the bus
        oi
        whimper
I put on my headphones
        arm ****
People stare
        oi
I suppress
        They build
The minutes drag on
        Like an itch they can’t be ignored
The bus can’t go fast enough
        They’re pushing up
We arrive at school
        They’re going to escape
I run off the bus
        They begin to explode
        head ****
        arm ****
I distance myself from the students
        oi
        arm ****
        head ****
        head ****
        groan
        tongue click
        tongue click
        whimper
They stare
        shoulder roll
        arm ****
        shoulder roll
        whimper
        oi
        oi
Everyday I tic and twitch
A homage to my everyday struggles living with Tourettes Syndrome. Tourettes is a chronic condition where you have involuntary movements and make involuntary noises.

— The End —