I pull the sheets up to my chin. There are monsters here, but they aren’t out there. No, they reside within. Snapping their powerful jaws and flexing their pointed claws. They dig inside my brain and find all the worst parts of me.
“You will never be more than a smear beneath the boot the Others.” Don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me twice. I know I will never measure up. I know I’ll never be enough. I know I’m pathetic and weak and strange. You aren’t telling me anything I don’t already believe.
I check the knobs on the stove once, twice, better check them again. You can only scrub the dirt off these hands for so long. Door locked? It doesn’t help. Neither do these sheets. It’s all within. Don’t bother digging around, I’ve seen it all before.
Still, I grip the sheets tighter and squeeze my eyes closed. What is this on my cheeks? My pillow? Damn it, we’ve been over this. It never helps. Tears. Blood. (drip-drip-drip… so pretty on my skin, on the tiles) Screaming. Scratching. Rocking forward, back. Forward, back. Nothing ever helps. Nothing… except the moon and the stars and soft fur and gentle eyes and a hug and a smile and nothing except the hope of love, love, love.
tara caribou | ©2021
Writer and Artist
a collection of short poetry from an autistic mind
Poetry, Photography, and Thoughts
The Lies in the Skies Exposed
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