since the bee sting, my son is a staccato of worry.  in his six year old frame there is not room enough for any belief that isn’t a bumblebee waiting six years for him and him alone.  I have to enter that darkness.  even with the catcalls of real suffering.  even cradling

your daughter.

All I ever wanted
was to be a gentleman.
What if those gentlemen I
aspired towards are proponents
of a patriarchal life-world.
Where does hope ever leave me?
All anyone ever wanted
was to be good. I know
I'm one of the bad guys. So it goes.

Might as well tell a joke befitting:
Why did god give man two nostrils?

A small bump of 4-MEC
[4-MethylEthCathinone]
It is a fairly typical
substituted cathinone.
Pleasant enough and
without excessive
tachycardia at
lower doses.

A little line
of Ketamine
goes down
well as
a chaser,
It put me
at ease after
the stim's quick-
fire breeze. I fall
into tranquility
but it's not the hole
we're all searching for.

My mate sneezes.

I think I found my solace.
Under the never-looping azure above,
I declare that I found my
                [solitary]
sanctuary.

When the noises continue to vibrate,
the [pandemonium], the crowd
seems nothing if I hide under my comfort
                                                   s o l a c e t h .
This heavenly, a thing that stops everything from
                [buzzing]
         is no ordinary stim
                                           ( s o l a c e t h )

  I am happy
                     (euphoria sensation, tingling inside my under parts.)
  I breathe inside my solaceth paradise.
  The solaceth, I put them in my veins, so of course

I swallow my solaceth, I put them inside my veins, so of course
sticking on my skull, lingering under the PLASTIC, ONLY CLAY skin of mine.
It will never be faeces, because the solaceth is my blood
now, even my saliva and ***** now taste like solaceth
                               do you want to taste them?
it will never be urines, because I drink my SOLACETH back.
solaceth, [ d i s e a s e ? w h a t ? ] is me. I am solaceth,
solaceth inside me now.
Yes, maybe as you say, it's a virus.
A virus for us to finally reach our utopian land!
  Forever sniffing, forever living, our SOLACETH!

I'm gonna crash
I'm switching lanes
Like a spinning fan
I osalate
And I'm in danger
I'm testing fate
My life in peril
There's no debate
My chance of survival
Obliterate
My chance is slim
And I am on
My last whim
I'm hanging by
A single limb
I'm bleeding out
I need a stim
Like a med pack
I need a chopper
For an evac
I need to run
And not look back

bier und mohr bier!
bier und mohr bier!
und mohr bier!
und mohr deutsche spresch(em)
und sher wenig
auf: alles angeschlossen...
mit ein britisch-stim'mung!
ich sterben:
ich leben...
    es ist: wie auch immer:
nacht!
                kommen sie: bald!
      hier du...    da: "sein"!

Stimming/Self-stimulation: most common in individuals on the autism spectrum, but also done by those with anxiety, stimming (stim for short) is the act of engaging in repetitive motions--such as rocking, flapping hands, making noises, and touching or chewing on things--as a way to express emotions or self-soothe.

when anxiety has me ensnared
in its clawed and crooked grip
sunk deep into my bones
my spine becomes a rocking chair
pretzel-ing itself into a shape
that knows how to rid this body
of the gritted teeth and shaking hands
and tears that are a near-constant
and burning promise

and this movement
the motion of moving back and forth
planted firmly on mattress
or couch
or carpet
or hardwood floor
it grounds me and soothes the ache
of a mind in turmoil
in a way that unzipping
my flesh never did

but the motion that is heavily
put into practice while standing
is a noticeable thing
that is too calculated and controlled
to be played off as
intoxication or any other substance
to quite the roiling of my thoughts

and when my little sister
looks at me next to her
with fluttering hands and adding new
indents of my teeth into my bottom lip
and asks me why i am rocking
i do not know how to explain the
motion to her in a way that she will
understand and so i make myself stop
by forcing the movement into my leg

and many summers ago
when i sat on the mattress in
the livingroom of my father’s apartment
that was also my bedroom
and began to rock back and forth
to quell the rising tide of anxiety
from the anger in his eyes and voice
and he snapped at me to
“stop being such an aspie ****”
my only response was to
rock faster and bite back the
tears that threatened to
drown the both of us