ant. | dark poet | skeptic | hopeless romantic
there is not only but also
no man can do all that his mind requests.
his glory lies in how close he can come.
“The test assesses five different areas.
“Autistic-like responses will show poor social skill, attention-switching, communication and imagination, and an exaggerated attention to detail.
“You scored 38.
“Scores over 32 are generally taken to indicate Asperger’s Syndrome or high-functioning autism, with more than 34 an ‘extreme’ score.”
Trans* (and fluid) pronouns remind me of the times when I have played a female character in D&D, and all the other players continue to call me he/his/him, even when I am trying to play the role of a she/her/her. I would have to constantly remind them that, although I may appear male superficially, I am actually (at least today) assuming the role of a female. I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to deal with this situation daily — when in fact your ‘character’ is actually you, but people still can’t seem to adapt.
somehow through the tireless rigour
of my mental squinch i flounder now
for a thought. a singular datum has
escaped me and i wallow in
the racking. its ephemeral form
flitters from the roiling past,
a vague once-was, a silhouette,
struggling to recede into periphery.
i toil in this neurotic purgatory
as my reeling reach unravels
any hope for peace of mind;
my sole intention to grab hold
of myself-hours-ago by dancing with
the feebly futile font of memory.
if i only could i’d leave
this shit behind me and get on
with the rest of my night.
i thought, maybe i’ll write a poem
about it. maybe i’ll tell the world
about it. maybe if i make something
come of it it won’t hurt so damn bad
that i am in this place
and i have been disgraced
that i am fragile
and i know as much as i try to think
otherwise that i will always be
fragile and i will never have
order in my life as long as i
am chained by a need for order.
i still feel like
shit and it’s
a tiny trifle
on my brain.
but i don’t want to feel
this way so i try to tell my
self that IT’S OKAY.
and i try to convince my
self that i
mean it. and
if that would work i would be
but i still feel like shit
and i’m still uneasy
and anxious and restless
and such a mess.
i wish i could just
forget about it
i wish i could just
let it go and know
that IT’S OKAY.
but i’m so afraid of
i am so