Tag: Coping

Red White and Blues

would have been, in days past, that the arguments and pain and hurtful words would have thrown me into a spiral. envisioning red ribbons across pale flesh and splashes of life (precious) dripping onto bathroom tiles. forget the sharp blade, I’d reach for the… Continue Reading “Red White and Blues”

Thoughts on a Windy November Afternoon

For nineteen years, I was beat and belittled into quiet submission. I was trained to understand I would never measure up. I laughed too loud, I talked too much, I read the wrong things, I didn’t fit in, I didn’t understand my peers. I… Continue Reading “Thoughts on a Windy November Afternoon”

Exit 8 – A Poem by Brandon White REBLOG

A Poem by Brandon White. Exit 8 – A Poem by Brandon White Exit 8The sky was an oil paintingand I was stoned and terrifieddoing 80down i40,as close to Hunter S. Thompsonas I’ll ever be In between moments of sheer panic,I thought of poetry… Continue Reading “Exit 8 – A Poem by Brandon White REBLOG”

Through The Window

The first time she climbed through my bedroom window in the middle of the night I was ten and she was eight. She didn’t say anything, just clung to me beneath my purple unicorn blanket and quivered. I wrapped my arms around her and… Continue Reading “Through The Window”

Under the Sheets, In My Head

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… Continue Reading “Under the Sheets, In My Head”

Grief Held

The loss was so profound So deep So all-encompassing that it Seemed For a time As if the tears would Never End “Will I ever stop crying?” I asked the world in general In poured the platitudes The endearments The empty gestures And then… Continue Reading “Grief Held”

Then and Now

your nails, like claws dragging scratching ripping through. my. brain. tearing out every hidden part of me you see all the deepest bits of me digging in, your fingers leave behind furrows and trails bloody bits and me, I stare wide-eyed drool dripping down… Continue Reading “Then and Now”

Poetry

words. that pleasurable idea.

Robert Charboneau.

Writer and Artist

living document

a collection of short poetry from an autistic mind

Anonymously Hal

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Welcome to my tiny corner of the universe filled with poems that I have written.

ED A. MURRAY

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