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, May 11, 2016


Straddling light and darkness
One minute here
The next minute there
Confusion reigns
With an iron, aberrant whip
Right hand feeds the left
The past reborn
Within next breathe
If the past
Becomes present
What shall the future hold?
Right hand held out
Waiting to receive
Oncoming blow
To take one step
Would be to
Acknowledge the last
Of decadent steps
That have led me
To this point
I don't stand
At the precipice
I am the abyss
I am the vast
Emptiness filled
Oh, how I wish that one could understand the precarious predicament that I currently face.
Seems like a riddle, yet it is all too clear.
No one can answer this...but me
At any life will drastically change. Forgive me for trying to stand far back from the railing, arms crossed and hand rubbing chin.
It could be the best of times
It could be the worst of times
Change in a package without a bow
When words fail me, as they forever do, my mind switches back to its primal, visual program and how I feel, what I'm thinking, pops up in pictures, brief visions. Write the visions and the picture forms.
Clarity is either the bitch I hate or the one I take to bed
I'm in a funny, precarious place. Things hanging by strings await me with scissor in hand to collect them, they, the hanging things I cast away so long ago. They can't hurt me anymore, doesn't mean I want them in my pocket.
Do they bite? Or sting? I won't know unless I decide to touch them. I fear burning fingertips and lips aglow.

Good lord, is shit getting real
My journey, my path, my steps
Step back
I got this

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