Esto es lo que siento. Esto es lo que siento. El porqué lo puedo sentir y no decir no lo sé. No entiendo y si pido explicación, sé que se me enterrarán las espinas, las espinas de esa flor— su aroma dulce, sus pétalos en la oscuridad.
Oh, que mucho arde el vino cuando no sabemos qué es.

I don’t mean to be rude, it just comes out that way. I’m just tryin’ too hard. The moon looks full sometimes, and when I look out the window, I can’t quite see it.
I can’t quite see it.

It’s like that sometimes. There’s something beautiful. I want to reach it with words. I want the permission to hold it. But I can’t quite say it. I open my mouth, and I can’t quite say it. I’m sorry. I wish it were different.

The compass inside me has always been fragile, broken. Do you know what happens to a child with no direction? They wear your face. I knew the grownups didn’t love me the way I was. I’ve never been loved. Not when I wore my own face.

She told me, “I think you think this”
and I said, “I don’t.”
and then I said, “I know why I thought that.”
and I thought, “I only said I thought that because I knew she thought I did.”
I thought, “I did my best to never let myself think that.”
I thought, “I’m not interested in thinking about this anymore. I’m tired. I’m just so scared of this. Always so scared.”
I thought, “I’ve done what I understood was expected of me in order to be loved. It used to be the only way I could communicate with others.”
I thought, “I want nothing more than the thrill of experiencing myself.
I thought, “I want nothing more than to be as genuine as I can be. I wish I could fix it now. I wish I could give myself to people. I wish I could be bare today.
“But I think,” I thought, “I think that will have to wait.”

Sometimes I hope that someone might notice my difference,
Might intuit that the first approach,
The handshake, the "Can I join you?"
Is simply more difficult
And make the first move.
Sometimes I hope that people will realize the hand motions,
Foot tapping, slight rock of the body or toes
Are not merely a restless fidget,
Not impatience, nor disrespect.
Sometimes I want to be invisible,
Normal,
Neurotypical,
To be just another human being,
But mostly I wish to be accepted,
Autistic, quirky, kind, creative,
ME.

I don’t mean to be rude, it just comes out that way. I’m just tryin’ too hard. The moon looks full sometimes, and when I look out the window, I can’t quite see it.
I can’t quite see it.

It’s like that sometimes. There’s something beautiful. I want to reach it with words. I want the permission to hold it. But I can’t quite say it. I open my mouth, and I can’t quite say it. I’m sorry. I wish it were different.

When I woke up this morning
I felt my skin crawl and body ache
And my entire being was sitting at the edge of a knife
And I could feel the backs of my knees being gently sliced into as I swung my legs

When I woke up this morning
I felt my mind reeling back and forth like a wind-up car
Forehead and heart alike pounding as I sat up
My ankles clicked and my jaw popped open
To reveal damaged clockwork within
And I was stuck at exactly 6:37 am

When I woke up this morning
Something felt off
My hands felt as though they were placed three inches away from where they are on my wrists,
My ears rung with noises I barely remembered
And my eyes stung with just the light from my dim screen,
and burned when I flicked the switch

When I woke up this morning
My nerves were on fire
And I was reduced to a pile of tear-stained ashes
Because why should I cry if I knew what was wrong?
Questions racing about my mind
Dulled by choked on routines electrifying my nervous system
necessary to keep me from going down the rabbit hole

I'm tired of wearing Alice’s armor
And the caterpillar’s smoke is making my lungs seize up and throat swell
I refuse to accept the fact that I am steadily losing control
But I will scream, cry, and break that I am nothing short of terrified.

When I woke up this morning
I told myself that I will be fine
And I ignored all the warning signs
And I fell

Fell

F e l l.

Your lips move as though they are going hundreds of miles per second-
As though they’re on fire,
the driver is dead and the only way to stop is to crash in a ball of flames
I can’t tear my eyes away,
I watch,
morbid curiosity making me waver-
My mind is swimming,
hands shaking,
my breathing stopped-
Time has stopped.
Your words are suspended in midair
Their arcs aiming for my ears but they miss entirely
Instead, they crash against my face,
forehead,
eyes,
nose,
until I am buried in debris,
In your words and their meanings and I can’t dig my way out.

tickticktick

I'm sorry that I’m not quick to understand
Pardon my pauses,
my fidgeting,
my wide eyes
Pardon the way I twist at my bracelets when your words almost immediately blur as soon as they leave the confines of your cheeks
I scratch at my face because the record needle of my brain can’t find a pre-recorded song to match your pace
So it scratches across the wrinkled pink surfaces instead
And nothing but a stutter and incoherent sentences are played and I’m left to fend for myself
Against your nonstop talking at me because this stopped being a conversation a long time ago

tick.tick.tick

Call me surprised when you say that you understand
That I must delicately balance my medications on the tip of my tongue with ideations that get out of hand
In order to get out of bed the next morning because sometimes it's hard to rise from the grave when the dirt above me is each minuscule thought
That has accumulated over the course of the nightmare that lives in the tension in my shoulders.

tick. tick. tick.

I am alive, but without sleep, I am a lie
With whispers and rumors dancing with my worries across the ballroom that is my mind
Worn shoes scraping up the floors,
rude guests pushing my own thoughts off to become wallflowers
And I dance with a single mutter in a black mask that asks how you’re doing.
It asks if you really love me
as it guides me through a waltz
It asks if you’re lying
as it lets go of my hand to lead me through a spin
I don’t answer a single question as the song’s long, drawn-out metronomic beat continues to reverberate in my head because


tick

No matter how many times I ask

tick

No matter how many times I crash

tick

You’ll be there.

I’m giving
You a night call,
To tell you
How I feel.

I’m living
At a slow crawl,
Who
Has the shot to ****?

Arms crossed defence,
Haunted
Head
Of dreams.

Standing on the fence:
Faded,
Lead,
Poison-lean.

Blighted youth,
Hidden truth,
Failure to jump…

Cant jump:
Autism,
Pride problem,
No- progress.

Can’t initiate
Relationships:
Doesn’t mean
-Can’t- feel.

Does not mean
I don’t
Need
The same.

Fighting mouth breathers,
At a distance,
Who can tell?

Infected by venom,
Crippled, narcissistic
Venom.

Veins are black,
Self made
Transfusion;
Empathy stack.

Barrier.
A language
I don’t understand,
Barrier.

Never have
Comprehended,
It feels
like…

Everyone knows something
I can’t handle,
Can’t see…

Like I miss
A sense,
Everyone else-
Proficient with.

Like everyone else:
Knows
A secret
That I don’t.

What’s worse:
Is when
I pretend
To know

Everyone
Around
Acts like
I know-

But I don’t,
I never had,
Had your
Super powers…

I pretend
To read
Minds
Too…

I mimic
The language,
The body language:
Eye movement…

Eye brow shift,
Wide open arms,
Pupil dilation,

Shoulders diminished:
Insecurity.
Eye contact…

I can manipulate
These rules
For
My effect.

So I know
Other people
Can do
The same.

Most likely-
Do
All
The time

So how?
Can I trust
A single
Person…

Or what they say
With their eyes,
Maybe I should trust
The words…

ha

"You can join our group," he says,
"But only if you look everyone in the eyes."
I freeze.
Surely he is aware by now that the words
Autism Spectrum Disorder
In my chart were not placed there for fun?
Surely he is aware by now that finger twitching, body rocking,
     gaze avoiding
Are not for my frivolous pleasure?
Surely he is aware by now the absurdity of what he asks?
I am autistic.
Burning irritation of the eyes and panic aside,
Staring creepily into another human's eyeballs
Would render group a waste of time, no possibility to listen.
He knows this.
It is his prejudice that keeps him rooted to the spot.
I can feel the weight of his expectations boring into my forehead.
Explaining what it is to ask this of me,
I remind him that drawing this line would be excluding me because
Of my autism.
I tell him he would be losing a valuable participant,
A deep thinker, a creator, an avid listener.
I tell him he would be discriminating,
That I am protected by law.
Oh, no.
He budges not,
For he does not dislike autistic humans
So long as they act like they are Neurotypical,
So long as I pretend to be
Someone I am not.