A wallet, figurative, empty
A wallet, physical, full
The skies above frozen
Through time, only more dull
Grapes of wrath, now broken
And spewing forth the dead
The guns and love and cherry bombs
All tombstones inside my head

My card of invitation, only mere moments from deliverance
Stricken down by forgetfulness, but beg no repentance
I swallow, I write, in fervor for all in creative abhorrence and grammar that stalls
Lost on a track, lost on the ball
Only there because I together, put it all
Undermining myself for the attention of others
And in the end release of emotions that suffers.

I have lost my wallet two days ago
Where I misplaced it, I"m sure I know
A tainted soul found it's escape
And will attempt to take my place

But do they truly know my fear?
My anger, sadness, and joy here?
Do they know who I truly am?
Where I found myself to stand?

I know they cannot take my place
My love of blood, my disassociation
My mental disaster, my rented space
Transgender in-characterization

Hyper as a child, demon spawn
The universe took it's hold, moving on
I realize now the screams that torment me
Were my own as I tried to find who I be

Blood on my tongue, bra on my chest
I can at least go to sleep to rest
I've locked out everything for my safekeeping
If they sell my information, I'll wait a year
If they try to make fake money, I'll be here
I'll just lay in bed with one eye open, sleeping

My cleanliness is obsessive, but not disorderly
My pessimism is hyperactive, but not deficient
Swinging my pen like a pendulum
But the idea that comes leaves too soon

Drag it on, as if drawing my feelings and emotions
into a cage where I may understand them again

Television is worse than people
But the computer is the people's voice
The Earth's wind being the voice of Earth
And yet so confounded by Earth's people

I sit here, pen in hand
Keyboard at the ready
And yet so incomplete
I can no longer steady

My heart, my hand, my racing thoughts
They bleed out into form
Like leeches in European hospitals
A *******, blackened storm

I own it all, and for nought
I write it better here
For pen is over keyboard
But heart is by the ear

I

look

and see that my biggest mistakes has been thinking that I am to blame for my autism

and thinking that I had to change because I can communicate better than most of the others I know

but wait

they all contemplate

I'm judged for my lack of experience, my looks, and my ways. My attitude, gaze, all lost in the haze, angered or passionate, lazy, or depressed

I guess I confess I have stressed for no reason

It's come and it's go with each change of the season

**** me and what I think, it's all a farce I made to protect myself from the ghost that I said I"m afraid

of

this. my writing. it needs to be said. not locked in my head. my IQ does not matter, 135 or if it's 2. I'm no longer in school. I have a job to do. People to meet, and places to go.

I'm a lunatic. I want to stay a child, but no.

I won't accept support because of my past. I am human and heteroneurogeneous.

Such words. Many poems. I claw at my legs. I claw at my heart. I claw at my arms, at my head, and the dandruff it falls and I feel a bit better because now my hair feels like

my

old

biper