The meaning of life?
The meaning of life, like shades of the moon.
Half of what it was,
half of what it could be.
Riddled with doubt,
but shadowed by potential.
Wanting more,
Settling for less
A hazy life,
A monotonous plight
Dreaming of a 9-5,
and then…
what?
A hazy existence, shadowed over by the sun.
Dark and unassuming.
Nothing but unknown territory,
mildly bleak,
but oddly forgiving.
Mysterious.
Alluring.
Full of passion and meaning.
What is the meaning?
What is the meaning of life?
What is the meaning of destiny?
What is the meaning of…
me?
If not for life itself,
I wouldn’t be.
A letter to Grief
Grief is like a room without windows,
a dark disturbed place.
Living between shades of darkness,
it all looks the same.
But where darkness lies, light co-exists,
and time is a construct,
so take all you need,
and grieve.
We will be there,
support and comfort, flowing like water.
Call on us whenever you need.
So that one day,
you can leave the room without windows,
and step into the light of day.
Popsicles
Melted in the space between,
what yesterday was,
and what today brings,
is a time capsule of assorted memories,
assorted flavors, sweet and clean.
The tartness of rainbow sherbet and orange creamsicle delight.
They glow like beacons of a past far from my current state of mind.
As the days hurry by,
sweet nostalgia melts into something new.
Leaving my past favorite flavors,
faded.
Subdued.
In a freezer of forgotten recipes,
buried in the back under the peas,
there’s a time capsule for what’s dead,
but also what’s living.
Zombies
Running through the hazy streets.
Mind clear as the mud that coats my legs like splatter paint.
Restless I’ll be,
until my end comes for me.
Bleak and vast is my new silhouette,
dilapidated streets are my home.
An icy dread pumps through my veins.
Something is coming.
Lurking in wait.
As a murder of crows flies overhead,
I fear my own murder is near.
Cemetery stone crumbles behind me.
The closer it gets, the less I have to fear.
Only myself,
and what will become of me here.
Recalibrate
It’s an uphill battle,
wandering this labyrinth of a world.
My mind like a freight,
pounding the track until it disintegrates.
Critical error or system failure?
It’s all the same to me,
living with ASD.
Jaded and jagged,
a puzzle piece misshapen for society.
Broken sensors,
broken identity.
Looking for a cure,
to recalibrate my system.
Recalibrate all of me.
Driven and restless,
always confused.
I keep striving for better.
The best version of me.
If I recalibrate, what will I lose?
Will change truly benefit me?
Will I suddenly become whole?
Or is my mind a gift,
not broken, just different?