It hurt. It hurt looking at him hurting. Hurting himself,  screaming at the top of his lungs. It all hurt. Knowing that there was nothing anyone could do, nothing I could do to make it all stop. To stop the screams, the hits, everything. All you could do is hope that it would end before he got hurt even worse. It was like watching someone drive themselves insane, except he was already insane. He had been mad ever since he was diagnosed with insanity when he was 15 months old. At first he was okay; he didn't do anything to harm himself nor anyone else. He was a calm child growing up, never caused any hardships to the family , but when he turned 8 that’s when it all started. His dementia gradually worked its way up till his 8th birthday and that’s when it all became too much. All the temper tantrums, hurting himself, the screaming, the aggression, everything. All because he was born with this craziness. People call it “severe autism” or a “mental disorder” but I prefer to call it insanity. Because that’s what it is: pure madness. Don’t get me wrong; there are times when hes the perfect little angel, but there are other times where he would turn into the devil himself.

i smell the sulfur in my blood

as it drips from my fingernails

onto the ground -

iron returning to iron.  

sometimes i think i see

macroscopically

because faces aren’t faces

they’re eyes staring back at me.

i can’t bring myself to look

so i stare at the cracks of their hands -

broken palms moving back and forth

to words i don’t understand.  

i see the sky and think of the sea

and wonder if the clouds taste of salt -

but there’s a growing buzz

that sounds like vocal chords being

rubbed against one another

like the shriek of a violin,

so i cast my gaze to my own flesh.  

it is beige and soft and strange

and i just want to rip it off

and expand past the atmosphere -

leaving behind calcium and phosphorous.  

instead i continue to bite away at myself

and rain red.

As I **** the sweet
Vapors into my lungs
I contemplate his
Words to me
I want you to be lost
He said to my question
What do you want
I want you to go
And be lost
And never come back
And also, I hate you
I don't love you anymore
So much pain and hurt
For a boy of only four

have you benefited from me?
this friendship
this love
is there anything more i can give you?
so your heart
i can touch

you try
everyday
and i know that it gets tough
but distance would mean the world to me
if only you understood that much

i know what its like in your shoes
trust me
i know
i do
but i also know that this is the only way
to stop me from hurting you

to answer your question
you have
ive learnt that sometimes the truth
can only serve to break someone
and so ill keep lying to you

your life cannot benefit from my honesty
and something i know too well
is that sometimes people grow better
without me
sometimes i just shouldnt tell

im sorry i know you dont understand
and perhaps you never will
but my heart it hurts for you everyday
but soon youll learn to tell your heart
"be still"

All those eyes face upon my movement like a circus monkey,
Laughing at the uncontrollable flailing of my arms and head.

How could I express my embarrassment of so many entertained by my misery,
Like the stabbing of needles around my whole body.

So much movement and sound moving in thousand beats per second,
"And this desire to release sensory overload by hitting against my head."

This solitude of being alone is overwhelming,
And I wish I can convey my deepest emotions.

Only if I can communicate my world to you,
And tell you how I feel.
To dream like you,
And have many aspirations.

How could I express these thoughts to you,
I am a human being stuck in a different body!

Please be patient with me,
Show me the right way,
And I will show you my deepest thoughts,
My dreams.

It's pure madness.
It is.
You think all these weird and strange and impossible thoughts, and you just want to, no, need to, tell someone every little thing you've ever thought.
But you can't.
Because you're absolutely terrified of what they'll think of you.
Because they'll judge you for being different.
For being abnormal.
They'll judge you for being you.
And then your mind starts to move at a thousand miles per hour to form logical reasons why you can't be the same as them.
Your head begins to spin because of all these thoughts colliding, and you can't stop it.
You couldn't stop it even if you tried.
Even if you wanted to.
Then, your mind, it... it just dies.
As if it were pushed to its absolute limit.
You feel horrible, and it's all because you don't know anyone could possibly comprehend you when you can't even do it yourself.
Then, to punish yourself.
To feel numb.
You cut yourself.
And you bleed.
And scar.
You hide it so that no one will ever know.
And the worst part?
It works.

I have.....
curly hair
autism
a sunburn
freckles
a black cat
a blister! AAAHHH get a bandaid!!! MOOOMMMYYY!!!

I am.....
left handed
long legged
a girl
funny


My ID card describes me as:
caucasian-whats that mean?
female
minor
blue eyes
red hair

All of this describes me
None of it defines me

Today I am a tourist
In romance, her swaying hair
Across my lap
She showed me this long night
And I bit into it

Laughing loudly and aroused
Not for sensation, but for feeling
She showed me the stages of joy

We folded our lives
As we folded laundry together
Ate our meals in complete comfort
The interior of thirsty years
Of suffering, made worth it

In a few months of purest joy
Loving her was like a Jewish legacy
Of an expression of American hope

I could hope I belonged
But romance usually had a way of
Burning my letters at a bonfire
For a muse I couldn’t have
So much color, so much sadness

So many postcards from
The women I believed I loved
Thus I remember your face everywhere

Like a poet infatuated
With the idea of love
Who has some difficulty
Recognising her at “face level”