taehyung reminds me of warm sunlight beams on fluffy carpet, of delicate flower petals pressed in old books; he makes me feel like i am falling asleep with gentle rain falling outside my window. he is the smell of coffee shops and bookstores and the feeling of a puppy being snuggled in your lap. he makes me smile, he makes every atom of my body come alive and makes every dull thought go away; taehyung is my life, the reason i breathe, and my every hope and dream encapsulated in a living human body
υποφερω από κενα μνημης, ναι
αλλα θυμαμαι που χθες το βραδυ μου ειπες οτι αυριο θα είναι όλα καλυτερα
σε ρωτησα αν ησουν σιγουρη
απαντησες με αυτοπεποιθηση «βαζω το χερι μου στη φωτια»
κριμα, ηταν ωραιο χερι
This Poem Is Called Autistic Rage (All My Poems Are Called Autistic Rage) 2.12.16
never been in the scene, any scene never been much one for being seen, never kept a rhythm and i never caught a beat, never saw much brighter than the light off the screen. check the shine on those stars that youre stuck in between - don’t fight it, keep quiet, be grateful you wouldn’t get hate if you dint wear the label girls like you hardly count as disabled you’re lucky girl cus you pretty much pass, lucky girl you get to be top of the class, almost normal, so intelligent can barely even tell that you’re out of your element you couldn’t be a retard and be this eloquent its evident that where we’re at is not exactly heaven or the resident devil living in the seventh level: its limbo, a settlement in the centre, purgatory tenements: you’ll be here forever enter stage left, exeunt right never always sick, never dying always floating, never flying always tripping, never falling hearing voices, no one’s calling
we won our rights in ‘95 the right to be told that work is life, the right to be told to look you in the eye, the right to diluted, long-disputed, weak and muted legislation well i guess let’s have a party cus we’ve fixed discrimination 30% of our families living in deprivation, got certification that we’re living in a nation that’s eleven points deep in human rights violation underfunded hospitals, daily degradation, and piss-poor fuckall media representation: keep your Rain Man Oscar-gimmick Paralympic skys-the-limit bullshit: we’re ‘such an inspiration’ but you still aint gonna take your kids to get their vaccinations you don’t know shit about it but you know you gotta fear it you say you want awareness, take one day out the year for it and if we spell it out for you, are you gonna hear it? are you gonna see it? are you gonna live it are you gonna be it? or have you got a puzzle and you’ll try to fit me in it?
dont give a shit what the dog in the nighttime did dont give a shit about your cousin’s neighbour’s girlfriend’s kid. ‘oh but he acts nothing like you’ well, obviously. he’s six fuckin years old. what did you expect, we’d be birds of a feather? that every one of us can be lumped together? am i somewhere on the spectrum? yeah, but im fuckin riding it, one day im yelling it, one day im hiding it, but ask me straight and i’d never deny it i’m another madhouse brit gliding lit around the lemniscate a rainbow on a figure-eight, i’m not a neurotypical i’m not a fuckin innocent: i’m a full-colour kaleidoscope and my mental age is infinite
if im an epidemic i’ll get everyone infected, a pathogenic in the system till it gives in and collapses fuck the back-to-work interviews the spare bedroom taxes, the ‘mercy-killings’ in the news the stairs-only access, Damien Green and the DWP and Autism Speaks and anyone who ever thought they’d speak for me this slant and sloping playing field and Andrew fucking Wakefield
they built power on a mountain and if i never reach the peak ill be another body on the path to mark the route you seek a guiding-sign in blood defined, a kind of hope when times are bleak: because all the things for which we fight, solidarity and love and rights, equality and food and life, is fought across the generations and not all of us survive we can only start to lead the way and hope that truth will come with time.