I used to love apologies
When you’d admit your wrongness in lew of
my rightness my pride did somersaults
with my ego
I would spend hours admiring their
acrobats and my posture would reflect
their newly practiced muscles with ease
Your apologies were music to my ears
until the bow broke the string
Now the music isn’t right
The gentle hum of my ego doesn’t find
comfort in your shame anymore
I now beg you to stop the music
It has become a terrible scream
A high pitched ringing no one else can
hear but I swear it’s there and I’m not just
crazy or lacking potassium
I want to grab a needle and thread and
sew your mouth shut before you can ever
apologize again
You cannot control the weather
Don’t apologize when I say that I’m cold
You cannot control my sleeping habits
So don’t apologize when you hear how I
couldn’t sleep last night because I
was craving something but didn’t know what
it was and I couldn’t go to bed without it
Don’t apologies to me
When you say you’re sad please don’t
apologize
We are all sad sometimes
There is no shame in realizing our
happiness is only skin deep sometimes
When you say you don’t understand the
joke I just made please don’t apologize
I promise I will explain it to you differently
even if it loses its humor that way
I know you can’t control how your brain
deciphers the meaning of words
When you read my expressions wrong
please don’t apologize
It was my fault for not seeing your
hesitation and confusion and failing to
comfort your headspace with promises
that I’m not mad or upset
I promise it’s just my face and you
heard me the wrong way
That’s okay
I hear things wrong sometimes too
But please don’t apologize for being you.

          ---Autism is funny that way

The world looks at him, and gets lost in the confusion.
  She looks at him, and she is lost in his world.
Passers by stare at her unknown, unaware for the beauty within
  To him, her beauty lies far beneath her freckles.
Many of us can not even muster the courage to talk to one another
  Let alone, hold a candle to the splendor of true honesty & compassion.

Often replicated but never duplicated
  but duplication is within her.
Labeled for life to be a stigma,
  a supposed taboo.
Earthly born to be ‘weak’,
  but Heaven saw fit to grant her a strong heart & even fiercer spirit.
Undeserving of loyalty, for man deems her ‘broken,’
  Her presence screams throughout time,
“I am NOT broken!”
  She was made for him.

He fits to her soul like the last puzzle piece,
  Vibrant, making the whole picture complete.
Racing is his mind, nothing seems to calm,
  until he sees her, his fiery red hair gal.
Excitement is a curious creature,
   It can be wonderful, when expected.
Speaking can be useful, after much altering.
   But he doesn’t have to change for her,
She knows exactly who he is, and even more.
   He knows how to woo her, from the deepest part of his heart.

Very matter of fact, no filtering required
  for this is a special kind of love.
A love that many so often throw aside,
  to glamorize a cheap imitation.
Bright lights, loud stares, and quiet words
  determined to shatter their dreams.
Hollywood glitz & glamour films, tell of impossible tales
   knowing that they themselves, long for something real.
Give us a tale of how we should love,
  how not to cast aside the broken.
For it is our true stories, of undeserving compassion
  How we are loved for everything we are,
Give us a Love Story like Marissa & Billy.

Please visit the link below to know more about their story:

https://www.facebook.com/Marissa-Billy-a-special-needs-love-story-166422050876423

I’m 99% weird, I’m sure of it
That 1% tells me to act normal
But I don’t think I hear it often
Sometimes when I sleep
It does request so
But it’s just 1%
It’s not like 99% is normal anyway

For the longest time I've kept my immediate family away from myself.
In retrospect my introversion and quietude as a child bordered on hostile. Most of the time i thought things but never said them. I now wonder if half my memories and excursions with people were all made up in my head while i sat there and said nothing. It's difficult opening up to people because no one ever asks and when they do it's never the right questions.
For a while i thought perhaps i had been autistic without even knowing but without proper diagnosis i am unable to say for sure and i highly doubt it now.
The thing is, while i very much enjoy words and nothing brings me pleasure like listening to my favorite people speak to each other while i pleasantly nod and wait for my turn in order to produce a monologue i had been preparing all the while with the proper pauses almost like i had gone back and done multiple revisions i find it difficult to banter. I am unable to jump from one topic to the next. I cannot for the life of me poetically jump from book commentary to the latest gossip as to why the barista at the local coffee shop wastes so much time talking about tattoos when all you want is your daily dose of caffeine. I must admit that this never really bothered me before. Yes, I comprehend that without dialogue it is not possible to keep relationships or even a simple job. I understand that without having anything interesting to say you will quickly lose friends and resort to whatever internet personas do all day. I've always been seen as the sensitive presence. Most of the time that I am zoning out people will agree that i'm just thinking about important things even though really i'm unable to stop myself from disassociating or even severe daydreaming at times. In fact, most of the time i am just there. However, when i'm alone without the impending life-or-death situations of being responsible for acknowledging the existence of other people there is a sense of liberation. I will go about my day hastily jumping from one task to the next. I am often bewildered by those that cannot bear being in their own company. They will seek any alternative rather than being alone and let me just say that there is a difference between being alone and being lonely and while i have felt both these with the same intensity i cannot say that which I am more perplexed by.

When everyone's asleep
I admit my defeat

When everyone celebrates 
My depression elevates 

Because while everyone is dreaming on
I stand frozen and watch my dreams burn on

And while everybody gather with family and friends
I stand lonesome and watch my world burn again

soft sweaters and
harsh breathing
fabric pulled tight
around cold fingers,
the grooves of the stitches
an odd comfort

hair tangled with eyelashes
a dark curtain
a shield from the outside world
knotted and wavy
from days without brushing

toes, flexing
mouth, twitching
unable to stay still
unable to stop moving
for fear of losing self
in a world of bright lights
and too many warm bodies

blood, bubbling like soda
under skin
itchy
messy
get out
get quiet
get dark
please, silence,
no more

breathe in
fingers play with hair,
the texture soothing
repetitive
familiar
safe.

So I’m daft?
Just because I blast music to escape
The complaining household I’m in
And this planet that appears to be
Ever so loud and uncaring
Yet they apologise
As if it'll solve world hunger

I’m daft becuase my cat like ears
Hear all the groans and sighs
Hearing all the kids in class scream
And you two talking about me
Under your wasted breath

I’m daft because I prefer to be
Alone in my room where I’m safe
And away from you both

So I’m daft
Just cos I barely eat meat
And prefer to read rock magazines
Than old books and girly magazines

I'm daft because I prefer to sleep in a bunk bed
With no one sleeping on the top bunk
Because I'm daft! I'm daft, that's why!

after 14 years of bullying and abuse,
mentally ill she seeks a thrill,
she seeks validation from anyone in this wide nation,
she just wanted some good attention,
to relief some of that tension,
she just wanted a friend,
but her autism made it hard to comprehend.

It started out so innocent,
she could not see his intent,
he moved in slow and calm,
he had her in the palm of his hand,

they finally met and behind all of the distress
she felt like he ment well
then it all turned around and became hell

he wasn´t  who he said he was,
and the girl ran out of all her luck,
forcing her into submission,
he could do whatever he wanted,
bewitching - her with charm and kind words,
that innocent girl turned against the world,

the depression got worse,
and in the end she just wanted to purge,
she wanted it gone,
her family, her school the world,
she was alone,
nobody to her support,

and as the days grew old,
she made another attempt on her life,
she succeeded,

that´s how I wish It would have ended sometimes
but I kept going,
I held my head high,
I am not that innocent anymore,
and my soul is forever sore,

I´m still fighting my demons every day,
and I will for the rest of my life,
until I finally hit the hay.