Autism in Poetry: It Burns

I’ve seen the fiercest hearts of my generation burn themselves alive, lips wrapped around a pipe…

Of one fashionable substance after another.

I wrote this for a dear one because I couldn’t use my words as I watched her burn…

Family is complex for this autistic.

I live in Mellankamp’s Indiana. Abandoned meth house on every corner…

How’s by you…?

IT BURNS

Up your nose
Or in your arm
It burns
First your charm
Then your pose
It burns
No one learns
The next child will yearn
Til It burns
Still burns
Oh it burns
It burns you up

In the mirror
That dark stranger
Stares back at you
Wild-eyed danger
But you don’t fear her
It’s you
Right on cue
She’s seen things you’d never do
But it’s you
Cuz Baby, it’s you
It’s you now
What won’t you do

Bridges burnt
Town ashes.
Poppa burnt
Mom ashes.
Beauty
Ashes.
Duty
Ashes.
Home
Ashes.
Dreams
Smoke…

Lovers turn to johns
Burnt.
Babies
Burnt.
Womb
Burnt.
Brain
Burnt.
Eyes
Burnt out…

Up your nose
Or in your arm
It burnt
First your charm
Then your pose
It burnt
No one learned
Your next child yearned
Til It burnt
Still burnt
Oh it burnt
It burnt you up
Ate you up
No one home
Just burnt bones….

Support #ActuallyAutistic artists, musicians, writers…

Like, Share, or Comment, so search engines share more autistic voices!

Originally published at http://autisticaf.me on September 27, 2020.