Whether you’re Aspie..

Whether you’re Aspie,

Or whether you’re not,

Your diagnosis,

Is the one that you’ve got.

It’s nobody’s business,

To say that’s it’s wrong,

To say that your this,

And not that, all along.

It’s not about you,

Being better than me,

Or silly things like,

Aspie supremacy,

Which is just twaddle,

And utterly lame,

Absolute nonsense,

Please don’t play that game,

We are all different,

As we should be,

But share common bonds,

Like the roots of a tree,

Then we branch out,

And we find our own way,

But how we define ourselves,

Only we say,

So let’s stop the fighting,

The labelling war,

It’s distracting, confusing,

It’s rude and a bore,

I’ll be an Aspie,

And you ? You be you ?

And then we’ll just get on,

And just do as we do,

No winners, no losers,

Autistic happy,

Under one roof,

One big family.

Tired!

Tiredness,

Dull ache,

Seeping,

An intrusion.

Shoulders bearing,

Weight of the world,

Like Atlas,

Yet broken.

Pain,

Consuming,

Searing,

Branding from inside,

To out.

The body,

Squeezed,

Compressed,

Each sinew, each muscle,

Focussed pain.

Joints,

Wheeze and crack,

Obstinate,

Argumentative,

Resisting change.

Shifting,

Seeking relief,

Twisting,

Twirling,

Attempting to find,

Comfort.

Pain,

Brings tears,

Frustration tears,

Tormented tears.

Trapped,

Within,

Body of pain.

Tired,

So tired,

Inescapable, suffocating tiredness.

My world.

I’m so,

Tired.

Into dust

Vastness,

A desolate space,

The great empty,

Stretching to each horizon,

Contrast,

The great blue,

The great ochre,

One above,

One below,

Devoid of life,

Devoid of moisture,

No tree, nor plant,

No animal,

Save one,

Me.

This vast emptiness,

This blank canvas,

The dry sea,

Vast dunes of sand,

Waves of fine particles,

Blown by a steady wind,

Swirling,

Dancing,

To the beat of a tune,

I cannot hear,

I am alone here,

Burning my feet,

Back scorched by a violent sun,

No shelter,

No escape,

Remorseless heat,

Pounding me,

Driving me down,

Desiccating me,

Increasingly fragile,

Until I,

Return to dust,

And what was once a man,

Now mingles with the dancing particles,

Of sand,

And,

Is gone.

“Talking” therapy

So, how’s it been ?

What’s it ?

You know, things ?

What things ?

Well, stuff ?

Stuff ?

You’re making this very hard ?

Hard ?

Yes, hard ?

What’s hard ?

You ?

Me ?

Yes, you ?

But what about me ?

You’re making it hard

Yes, but hard in what way ?

Every way

Yes, but what way ?

What’s been happening ?

Where ?

With you

Me ?

Yes, you

Oh, I see

Well ?

Well what ?

What’s been happening ?

I don’t know what you mean. That’s such an open ended question.

How are you feeling ?

Feeling ?

Yes, feeling.

I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel.

About what ?

About what ?

Yes, you don’t know how you feel about what ?

What’s what ?

What’s what ??

Yes. What what do you mean ?.

What are you talking about ?

I’m sorry but you’ve lost me now. I don’t know what you mean.

I give up.

I know. You gave up on me a long time ago.

Pilgrim

Stranded,

Alone yet not,

Alone.

Odious horde,

Multi faced,

Monster.

Oppressive,

Suffocating multitude,

Drowning.

Breathe,

Gasping, swallowing,

Seeking.

Resurgent,

Light seeker,

Emergent.

Isolated,

Observed fighter,

Warrior.

Conqueror,

Against the odds,

Again.

Eye,

Of the storm,

Solitary.

Wanderer,

Through time,

Traveller.

This,

Quiet pilgrim,

Walks.

Walks on.

Into

Dust.

Toms Head

When Tom woke in the morning,

Found he was stuck in bed,

No matter what he tried,

He couldn’t move his head,

He called to his wife Alice,

“My dear, I think I’m stuck”

Said Alice with a weary frown,

“Oh dear, that’s such bad luck”

Said she after giving careful thought,

“I’ll go and get the lube”

And she soon came back to him,

With the most ginormous tube!

She slathered it about his bonce,

She covered ears and nose,

And just to be on the safe side,

She put some on his toes,

Then she put on heavy gloves,

Of ominous design,

Grasped Toms head by his ears,

And said “Dear, you’ll be fine”

Gave the most enormous wrench,

And tugged, then pulled, then squeezed,

Poor Tom was going purple,

As he groaned and coughed and wheezed,

Panting, Alice stopped the fight,

Said “I’ve got no chance”

“Let’s think about this logically,

I’ll call an Ambulance”

And soon the paramedics,

Were standing by the bed,

Armed with many gadgets,

To try and move Toms head,

“How attached are you ?” Said Mick,

“To that head of yours ?”

“Well” said Tom with careful thought,

“Wife hates it when it snores

I use it quite a lot in day,

To see things, and use ears,

My mouths on it as well you know,

So I’d rather keep it, cheers!”

Mick and his mate Andy,

Then they tried all kinds of stuff,

From crowbars to electric drills,

They really got quite rough,

They tried to pry it off the bed,

Used pulley and a hoist,

They fought with it for many hours,

Until they got quite moist.

At last when they were gasping,

Had nothing else to try,

They gathered up their stuff,

Hugged poor Alice, said goodbye,

Left poor Tom a laying there,

Attached by head to bed,

Alice said “Now look my dear,

Let’s think of this instead”

And as they couldn’t move him,

They decided what to do,

They used a combination,

Of things so he could poo,

And wee of course and eat good meals,

Play board games, watch tv,

He always wears his nicest clothes,

For visitors to see,

And as he still needed to work,

In a job he found appealing,

He became a stockbroker,

Monitor on the ceiling,

And Tom is really doing well,

As he lies upon that bed,

And as he says to all concerned,

It’s all thanks to my head!

Tired is such ….

Tired, 

Is such an inadequate word. 

When exhaustion strikes, 

How tired am I ?. 

Pain, 

Waves of pain, 

Where does it hurt ?. 

Wrong question. 

Where doesn’t it hurt ?. 

Top to bottom, 

Waves of pain, 

Different levels, 

Muscles throbbing, 

Joints creaking, 

Sit down, 

Stand up, 

Lie down. 

All the same. 

I am so, 

Stiff. 

Every joint, 

Creaks, 

Like an old door on rusty hinges, 

Bone on bone, 

Shoulders slumped, 

Neck aches, 

Head throbs, 

Tightness, 

Feel so…

Restricted, 

Confined, 

Wrapped in a pain bandage. 

I feel so…

Beaten, 

Brutalised, 

Internal screams, 

Frustrated at myself, 

At the body, 

Letting me down. 

I am so…

Worn thin, 

Worn out, 

Simply,

Worn. 

Tired, 

Is such an inadequate word. 

For me. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This Morning

 A sunrise, 

Silhouetted house, 

Sky of rainbow spectrum, 

Sweeping across, 

Reds into orange, 

Purples, 

Broken by cloud, 

Behind them all, 

Yellow backdrop, 

Golden, sunflower, milkshake,

Abundance of late summer tones, 

Warming blanket. 

Air, barely moving, 

Still mild, 

Yet, 

The hint of colder days, 

To come, 

Trees, 

Leaves rustle, 

Summer foliage, 

Still there, 

Yet, 

Changing, 

Autumnal shades, 

Herald seasons end, 

Russet browns, rusty reds, 

Above a carpet of fallen seeds, 

Nature’s harvest, 

Cracks underfoot. 

Hear the silence, 

Upon the air, 

The dawning of a new day.

 

 

 

Red Tide

The red tide,

Remorseless,

Determined,

Driven.

I am Canute,

I am King,

Of land,

Yet, not of sea,

I command it to return,

I see it’s crimson foam,

It hastens,

It sees me and it’s speed,

Increases,

It yearns for me.

The red tide is coming,

Sweeping in on the backs of monsters,

Dredged from the deep,

Hurling themselves upon the rocks,

A churning, swirling wash,

A tsunami,

Seeking me.

This is my fate then,

To be drowned in scarlet,

To be submerged and washed away,

Seaweed hands reach for me,

Cold clutch at my ankles,

Current,

Whips feverishly,

Dragging me from my feet,

Pulling me under.

The red tide,

My mortal foe,

Is coming.

Losing my identity

I don’t know, 

Who I am, 

Perhaps, 

I’ve never known, 

I look back, 

To find, 

A life, 

Of confusion, 

Happiness, 

True or false ?, 

What is reality ?

Are my feelings, 

False ?. 

Memories, 

Are they real ?.

So many questions, 

What do I really, 

Believe ?. 

Cocooned, 

Wrapped in a sense of, 

Uncomfortably numb. 

Trapped, 

This sensation of being, 

Confined within oneself, 

Unsure of,

Everything. 

Watching time pass, 

Yet, 

Powerless, 

To halt the remorseless advance, 

And a past, farther behind, 

To an uncertain future, 

As foggy, 

As what’s gone, 

Before. 

I don’t know, 

Who I really am. 

And that, 

Is Scary. 

Scared of the past, 

Scared of the present, 

Scared of the future. 

Always scared, 

Of the unknown, 

I have always known. 

I just don’t know, 

Perhaps, 

I never will.