ebony head for a day and a half
i went on walks to dissipate
a little luck, but still no laugh
wooden head won’t resonate
don’t include me,
be rude to me,
feud with me,
or be crude with me
please don’t touch me
don’t stroke me or joke with me
i’m not laughing smirking
doesn’t mean i’m hurting
i’m just bored and tired and
wired into the white
my mind is blind and heavy
and dense like drifting wood it doesn’t
mean i’m bad or good or sinking
thinking dark tormented thoughts
i’m simply floating bloated
waiting for an island with
a shoreline, simply floating
bloated waiting for
an island with a shore.
after self-diagnosing myself with some light autism, there are many poems and writings and sensations that i read back on in the light of that, and i see a deep confusion and burn-out and over-saturation that thankfully i now am much better equipped to deal with it and to avoid the triggers.
there are still times like in this poem where i am no longer capable of thoughts and feelings. i am numb to sensations. but that’s ok. it just needs rest time and self-care.
hola a mis lectores españoles y muchas gracias por prestar atención a mis palabras.
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