Poetry: Poetry

Why do so many people feel so disjoint
When the words don’t rhyme?
The lines end
At an odd place as the thought finishes

Can they not see the beauty?
A line can wrap with its partners
A surgical cut
But I prefer the slash.

Is it more real? No
But it’s still true
It’s still here

Grasp the depths of a line
Jagged and long
Deep and messy
Like me.

My thoughts aren’t counting
My life doesn’t run on beat
The words come as they do

This is still poetry.

Poetry: Just Sitting

I'm just sitting here
Chewing some food I can't taste
Is it even food if it provides no pleasure?
What is the nutritional benefit of thoughtlessness?
I'm not thinking these things
I'm not thinking at all
Just staring at my unused butter knife
Stuck on the gleam of its surface
Like a crow after something glossy
Would I appreciate life more as a bird?
It is probably inevitable that I would come to moments like this
Ignoring the past and focusing on the absence
It drives my presence.

How I See

I don’t understand why people question my desire to wed the man I love. It’s not that I can’t take criticism– the lack of understanding my situation confounds me. I see every person I’ve ever met in terms of how they relate to my family. You have my brother’s wit but my cousin’s sense of fashion, you remind me of my great aunt… everyone except him. For he is the half of my family that was missing. His mother is the motherly figure portion that I was lacking with just my own. His father and grandparents and cousins I accept as my own. And his siblings complement my own. His person is my complement. I have found someone I cannot compare to my family for he is meant to be family. Of course it goes deeper than that. Of course I have over a million reasons why I love, need, and depend on him.

But when my side of my family is autistic like me, how do they not see how I see?

Poetry: Worth

I know the worth of my body.
Look at it
Measure the height
The distributions
Yes to that
No to this
Take note of the age
The wear
The skills and lack of
Write a side note about the hair color
The eyes
Quality of teeth
Scaling each inch
Counting the flaws
The scars
The stretch marks
The wrinkles
The moles
The freckles
Each one brings its own deduction from the value
And each is marked, noted, remembered.

I know the worth of my body.
I counted the zeros you placed upon the page
After your inspection
So thorough that my humanity fled from the flesh
As the eyes bore into my skin,
Marking me to remind yourself
Each transgression to my flesh
Every detail that indicated
I am not fair.

And I get in line with all the other bodies
Each with their own place
According to worth of the flesh
And I’m in the back
As those who are fair
Are showcased first.

But this is not the system that you value me by.
What is the worth of an opinion?
A laugh?
A memory?
A thought?
A promise?
An action?
A feeling?
What is my worth if you do not see me as a body?

Poetry: Not Thinking About Tomorrow

Am I the only one who finds memories to be painful?
I reflect and it always causes sadness.
There were happy moments in my life but
When I remember them, my reflection taints them just a little bit.
Saddens them just a little bit.
I don't like thinking about my past.

The present is my focus,
Just get through today.
It doesn't matter what the pains of yesterday are.
Yesterday was so long ago
And I don't want to feel sad.
Don't make me remember.

If you go far enough East, you find yourself West.
In mathematics, we say that there is only one infinity.
There is no distinction between negative and positive.
Two sides of one coin are still just a single coin.

The days of tomorrow are just future yesterdays.
And I can't handle yesterday.
Hold me, get me through today until all the tomorrows pass into yesterdays
I need a rock of stability
And the hole in me looks a lot like you.
Am I thinking about the consequences?
I'm not thinking about tomorrow.

I need you.

Poetry: Drift Wood

The waves crash onto the shore, violently moving the sand, modifying the rhythm of the trees. How different it would be in the middle of the sea. These same waves of destruction would just drift along, dispersing into its wealth and be forgotten.

I think I used to be a part of a ship. A large one that sailed the oceans with pride and purpose. Slicing the water under the strength of our unity. But now, scorched and covered in salt, slow progress is made, moving towards an unforeseen goal, riding the waves that the land finds so treacherous.

Out here alone, there is a peace found with the dangerous.
A balance in solitude.
Contentment in branching out, away.

I'm just a small piece of wood.

Can you measure my happiness?

Depression

Honestly, I think every person on this earth is depressed. Some people are really good at dealing with it and others are not.
People get drunk because they can't deal and then laugh it off as a fun weekend activity although it wasn't fun and it wasted their rent money and they don't even remember half of what happened.
They cut because visualizing the pain inside calms them, shows them that the pain that they feel is real.
Some people find comfort in talking about it to friends or a counselor or a family member, speaking of their feelings as if they feel that they're the only one who is struggling and how hard it is for them to get through it all... talking about how unhappy they are and how the challenges in their lives just make their lives seem worse and worse.
Some cry themselves to sleep while smiling throughout the day for they view their emotional state as weak and do not wish it to be expressed.
Some constantly bring it up and talk about it, trying to make themselves seem special for having a weak emotional capacity.
They make others laugh because they lost the ability to.
They love the world the way that they wished the world loved them but often doesn't and others call them kind for it, not understanding the intent.
The point is, we all get through differently.

But that doesn't mean it makes you unique or special or different.
It does not mean that you can opt out of life or use it as justification for failing to perform.
Your life is in your hands and you cannot let your emotional state dictate what you are capable of.
Take responsibility for your actions, strive to be better than what you believe you can be.
And for goodness sakes, stop looking for pity.