31 august 23

Fucking horrific - is the term
the sucking abyss that I huddled beside
my whole childhood
trying to reclaim me still
echoed in my own voice calling me to - what?
not death, not freedom but to mad despair
Relinquishment of all
I ever could become
on the altar of familial blind faith.
That nothing could ever mean anything if I were not
Puppetted, strung on the demands of demands of generations loudest voices.
But I am the weak, the failing, that can
lift from such a filthy hole some living limb & climb
away, out of reach, a strength invisible,
to challenge toxic might and poisoned care.
Of all possible heroes I am smallest
And yet, I crawl still further
Brighter, singing the names of them as I go

/ / on surviving abuse as an autist


Split face - eye gold staring
smoke smell, curling
Lord they watch, brother, listening
stone, waiting, cool grey
upon the brass upon the wood
Smile, it was said
a contract made
denied now, if I can, to turn away
lift hand a no - a space to hold
within, softening breath opens
in return 
those eyes watch - forget
that telling - deafen to
this need, noticed, known
bring to the eye
call out, truth mine