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Literature Text
The woman who ends up
yours
will be the luckiest woman
alive.
I hope you kiss her
tell her every day
that you love her.
I hope your mind lights
every time you feel the warmth
of her skin.
I hope you make her morning coffee.
Gaze into her eyes and note the colour.
Talk until the words dancing from your
lips
run dry and the silence comforts you both.
I hope there is a river in your heart
and a sunrise in your mind
a language on your tongue holding
forests and constellations
that only
she
will ever see.
Whilst mine you'll never be
I hope one day you make a girl
happy.
yours
will be the luckiest woman
alive.
I hope you kiss her
tell her every day
that you love her.
I hope your mind lights
every time you feel the warmth
of her skin.
I hope you make her morning coffee.
Gaze into her eyes and note the colour.
Talk until the words dancing from your
lips
run dry and the silence comforts you both.
I hope there is a river in your heart
and a sunrise in your mind
a language on your tongue holding
forests and constellations
that only
she
will ever see.
Whilst mine you'll never be
I hope one day you make a girl
happy.
Literature
Autism is not a Disease
Parents scared from the beginning
I am self contained
Being myself is a disease
I choose solitude over interaction
It’s unnatural, conversation
I go over possible dialogue on my mind
I know all the outcomes, so continuing is
pointless.
I have always been an outcast
always different
A turbulent blow of preemptive, and ongoing, hate from those who sense it.
Then I’m diagnosed with a problem
an excuse
unexcusable
In order to be fixed, I’m broken down some more
Rush me from therapist to therapist
I am still the same.
They hold me back, and call it “help”
So my mind is different
My brain map
Literature
Panic Attack
It's not like crying,
Where the pain inside is released with the tears you shed
And when you're finished you can curl up with the quiet and sleep.
It's not like sadness,
When the feeling is definite,
And you know it's not all in your head.
With this,
It claws at your chest,
Constricting your heart and your muscles lock up.
I wonder if I'll disappear.
It doesn't go away,
But lurks deep inside,
And you wonder if you're simply crazy.
Your thoughts swim as you're gasping for breath,
And even though you know it's coming,
You're still afraid.
And when it's all over,
You're still at the breaking point of emotion.
I wond
Literature
Autistic
I am autistic -- a "high-functioning" autistic. Does that mean I'm smarter than you? Probably, but trust me, it doesn't show. What does show is that I am definitely different from most of you. Not better, not worse, just different.
I don't think I'll bother with medical definitions of autism, or the variety of syndromes that belong to the very wide spectrum of autism. Google it, Yahoo it, or just ask Jeeves, if you want the more concrete definitions of autism. For my purposes, I just want to share with you what it's like to be me.
My sensory nervous system is like the ultimate electronic espionage device, gone horribly wrong. Take my sense
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Or boy, if you decide being straight isn't your thing. But you're 18 now and adamantly straight, I don't see that changing.
Whilst I don't really like this poem, I find my creative process... interesting. This was written at 5am on my phone right before I went to sleep in a "shit I'm feeling creative" fit.
Mark my words, I won't write in weeks now.
Whilst I don't really like this poem, I find my creative process... interesting. This was written at 5am on my phone right before I went to sleep in a "shit I'm feeling creative" fit.
Mark my words, I won't write in weeks now.
© 2013 - 2024 dextroannie
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