7.24.2023 - Sway

7.24.2023
Sway

The ecstasy of rocking,
Being unobserved and free,
To fidget, to wriggle, to sway.|
To flap autistic fingertips,
|Or simply to sit in silence,
Away from the depths,
The drowning weight of eyes,
Demanding, hot, and clueless.
Why must eyes bore?
Why do they burn like brands,
Pressed relentless on bare flesh?
The scars invisible, but binding,
The scent of tar in the nose,
Instead of burning toast,
Brain still misfiring,
Compressed before the others,
Eyes squeezing boa-tight,
Drowning in the depths.
The blaring colors sparkling,
Cacophony of crickets,
In isolation, silence warms,
Lightness of being freely.
Autism isn’t a death sentence.
It feels so good to sway,
So complete in oneself,
Perfectly imperfect,
Like a dance.