Poetry from today's circumstances.
So we argue as scenes of The Secret
is ever present the law of attraction is suppose to bring you presents I think.
They are not coming now but I can't hold back my anger as fumes of irritants leaves her lips whispering in silence like I am deaf but I hear interpret and recognize the stick hitting the bars that pokes the bear.
I tell my brother in terms and language I should not use
"Autism has fuck up my life" There I said it. It's been living at the top of my chest like a tropical feathered bird with blended indescribable colored feathers waiting for the moment to burst from its cage and crash against the ceiling of the house it feels trapped in looking for the nearest window. This can't be life. I beg for time to be productive so that our condition can be worked through. Blue is the color of sad black music and I am not a musician how do I get this out. What key, note or notes are needed. So the Secret says positive attracts positive but how do you maintain good vibes when autism attacks your only child with ravenous invisible teeth. A monster like the boogie man that no one sees. No cat scan mri x rays blood test can reveal his hiding place.
Breath Namaste wake up in lotus poses not knowing how you got there. Can't meditate because a scream for help breaks the pending trance where enlightenment is found. Why take the trip to paradise if the trip is constantly interrupted with crisis calls like bad breaking news is reported everyday expect it waiting to detect it. It is life now this can't be life. The only time I am alive is being of service to others and waiting for praise like please let this not be like the other thing. Please say what I have done is good something has to be good. So I chase service perfect the people in the frame because I have a sense of control there. My other world spins with greasy door handles and bent keys with locked doors. Hostage comes to mind, the mastermind and his bunch are free but I am not they go and come as they please play, laugh among themselves and I wait for my rescue but it feels as if they just want the ransom so keeping me alive in this torture chamber is a matter of time. Writing this give me something that makes sense other than the ambiguity of autism. So we fight I apologize she apologize and finally a sigh of relief, I can work in silence for some hours where I am back to service then the call of crisis comes again. They have broken the window again like the boogie man no mri x ray or ct scan can reveal the culprit or the motive. Back to square one so I convince myself in closing if society creates circumstances where all that is wrong can pay a visit then circumstances where all that is right can pay a visit.