Prepare to enter the wild and wooly world of an adult with Aspergers Syndrome, a form of autism characterized by intellignce, quirks, social difficulties and downright strange and oddish behaviours.

People with Aspergers generally are high functioning in everyday life but have great difficulty connecting with others due to the inability to read faces, body language and subtle verbal clues. They also tend to take words literally and have a hard time multi-tasking.

Oversensitivity to touch (clothing has to be soft and often the tags removed), light (do not leave home without the sunglasses), sound (loud noises and noisey places are avoided), taste (many Aspies have quite a limited diet and are frequently very picky eaters) and smells makes the everyday existence more of a challenge.

Fasten your seatbelts and come on in...
To find out more about what Aspergers is..please check out my earliest blog entries

Wednesday, February 5, 2014


I am layered and faceted
Covered in veils and dust
Hidden deep within
The cavern of my self
Not sure I'd recognize
Who I really am
To show, to see
To let on

I am wool and blankets
Armor and steel
Running water
Hot, cold, steaming, still
Who am I really
To reach out, touch
Show you me

I am temperance and rage
The bullied and the beast
Howling pain
What I feel
Hurt and alone

I am lost
Deep within
Beneath layer of rock, mortar and whim

 I am a mirror that repels
I am the truth that hurts and reminds
Killing denial sharply to the bone

I am the wisdom
You dare not seek
I am the nightmare
That walks in daylight
 Look away
Look away

I hide from myself
I hide from you
 I hide from masses
I am unlike you

I'm not who you think
Imagine or cajole

I wear an honest shirt
Under shields of grey

My past lives within
Seeking an open door
A cracked window
Putty that has come loose

My shackles bind
The ropes entwined
Weights of doubt
Drown and submerged

The table is set
No one comes to feast
Only observe
The linen
The bread
The wine

In the house
Walls echo
Weep and bleed

The clock frozen
Her face
Arms and chest

Floors creak
Unable to bear
The weight
Of the silence
Of her years

The sofa unsat
A bed unmade
Slippers unused
The bathrobe hangs
On the floor

What's the difference
Tween a rock
And a soft place

White snowflakes
Hiding mounds of dirt
Break the shovel
Look away
Search not
Accept that the mountain
Will not yield
Undeserving of contemplation
Or to be climbed
Or melted

She wept
As the snow piled high
Caved in
From the sun

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