Sep 24
poem 4 comments challenge: Portrait

The Only World I Want Is My Own

Me.
14 years old and still lost in time.
Dark brown hair almost always in a high ponytail.
Blue eyes desperately avoiding the gaze of others.
Long, strong legs that belong in an ice rink.
Feet that curl in, even they look shy.

Me. 
High-functioning autism, social anxiety, and a little bit of OCD to top it all off.
My world is numbers
And spinning
And ice
And music
And chaos 
Or order.

Me.
I probably won’t talk unless you talk to me first.
When I do talk, it might not make sense to you.
But it will to me.

Me.
The perfect moment
Is when I understand.
If I don’t,
I’ll quietly go up in flames.

Don’t worry though.
Just pretend I’m not here
And I’ll do the same to the rest of the world.

The only world I want is my own.

 
Sep 09

A Thirteenth Clock


My sun is lost, the moon will rise,
The wheels of time have rolled away.
The clock has found its tick again
Yet still the leaves and mountains play.

The tap tap tapping of my foot-
It still won’t cease to sound,
The pendulum, the pendulum
Will never fail, rebound, rebound.

Surrounding shells have multiplied 
But these, they seem to be alive.
Still they don’t hear the melody,
So really how can they survive?

The clock has thirteen numbers now.
The wheels of time must face defeat.
Though leaves and mountains hug the wind,
The sun and moon may never meet.
May 23

Emotionless

Put on your mask.
Emotionless.
Don’t let them see your face.

Detach, withdraw.
Create your disguise,
So they never know who you are.

Don’t let them see the fear.
Don’t let them see the hate.
Don’t let them know what’s wrong.

They don’t need to know you.
They don’t deserve that trust.
They don’t understand your brain .

But really, neither do you.
You don’t understand why.
Why you? Why that?

Your bubble is safe.
Your bubble is warm.
Your bubble is all you’ve ever known.

No need to escape your world.
No need to contaminate it with others.
No need to alter it with their words.

Words you’ll never grasp.
Words you’ll never use.
Words you’ll never understand.

Phrases twist inside your brain
To what makes sense to you,
And are spat out unintelligible to them.

I’ll tell you a secret.
Apr 24

Figure Skating

Figure skating.
The most beautiful words in the English language.
The words that save me from myself.
That give me confidence.
Strength.
Happiness.





(The photo was not taken by me, it is a cropped version of a photo of me taken by a professional photographer from a show I was in)
Apr 23

The Lost and Found

Find me in the earth,
find me in the sea,
find me in these broken chains that slowly ruin me.

And when you do the lost will be replaced,
a new beginning
and drowning thoughts to face,

found in silent speech
where only song remains,
a note, a beat, a treasure lost to time,

a harmony I’ll never hear again,
a melody that you could never find,

and tap, tap, tapping hands,
and dance, dance, dancing feet,
fading, fading into colored glass
that shatters at the slightest shift of tune.

When moonlight comes, both lost and found are gone,
not one young mind is left to hold the tale
of war and peace
of light and dark
of old and new
of well and sick

of me,

of you.

All is left to a shattered, living tune.


 
Apr 23

Social Anxiety Disorder


Before our Socratic Seminar

My teacher told me and one other student

We should try to contribute more.

Talk more.

“Yeah, I will,” I say,

But my mind is saying something else.

My mind is begging him to understand,

I can’t.

I’m sick.

I don’t talk because 

If I do

I’ll suffocate for the rest of class,

Slide in and out of consciousness,

Scream at the top of my lungs.

At least that’s what it feels like.

In reality

I’ll mumble,

Have to repeat myself,

Confuse people,

Stare at the table until the focus has shifted from me,

Dig my fingernails into my skin,

Violently tap my fingers on the table,

And take notes as fast as humanly possible.

He says my voice, my contribution, is important,

But with every “encouragement”
Apr 16

Impressionistic Face

I’ve found that when this figure falls
And when the shattered calls,
Impressionistic face remains
To bring the lost to shame.

And crumbling down inside its cell
The warped perfection fell.
A night’s reflection slithered ‘round,
Its evil twin yet found.

Four yellow roses made the floor
Then drowned beneath the shore,
The thorn - the only last remain
To bring the lost to shame.
Apr 15

Lying Clock

Tick tock
Time stops
I’ve lost my broken, lying clock

Screams, cries
Hope lies
You’ve cut my wings, I’ll never fly

Knives click
I’m sick
You’ll see, now, how the tables flip

Words creep
Please sleep
I know you but we’ll never meet
Apr 13

How Bright the Sky Can Be

Mar 29

To Run the Edge


To run the Edge of this Black-iced Cliff –
A Darkened sea below,
And Not one single Star above –
To Light a way back Home.

Malicious Shadows twist and turn –
To pull me Down the slope;
An Abyss of abandoned death and Life,
And one Lost child’s Last Hope.

This Wind – the Uncontrolled, the force,
The Pain of ages Past –
Is Swirling through the deep Unknown,
The devil’s Hand I Clasp. 

And Far away – into the Night –
A Future lies Ahead,
The many Paths of Sun or Thorns –
All Hanging by a Thread.

And still I Run this Black-iced Edge –
Run faster than a Breath.
A Balance found – a balance Lost –
A balanced Life and Death.

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