I'm not scared of dying,
just without a warm hand,
of a lover's embrace,
until dead in the morning,
my body aches as my mind,
the brain does not function
like yours or anyone's else's,
a symptom of Aspergers's
god's terrible disease,
inflicted upon birth of me,
I can't stand up straight,
I can't even generally relate,
my birth-mark is of lonely death,
I can't wait to take my final breathe.