Chaos Box

"Don't vaccinate your children."

She said

"It will make them Autistic."

As if people like me make her sick.

What I wanted to say,

Was:

"Oh what a terrible shame,

To have kids who are able

To sense the rain."

Unprepared,

For the rain of things we are told

We can not do,

We Autistic Few.

To have children, who like me,

Are expected to fit autism's beauty in a box,

By this neurotypical society.

Filled with people who judge our abilities,

But

You can't fit this beauty in a box.

You can't fit the tastes of words or the color of feelings

Into their narrow descriptions.

My mental disorder that they say is chaos,

To me its their loss.

They want to impose their limits and make us follow their rules.

When they don't register on our spectrum.

Our rules ,

They don't even get them.

Like how, When the tastes and words

All Converge and the beauty

Overwhelms

Sometimes you have to scream.

Because you don't quite know what it all means

Or you have to rock away the shock of magnificence,

So you don't end up on the floor in convalescence.

The rules our minds give us

That often turn

Talk, Talk, Talk

Into

Rock, rock, rock.

Because our coping strategies are like bodily functions,

A necessity for our bodies to function.

On a similar level as them

A level which they have so distantly removed,

That they think being like us

Is a thing to avoid.

So much so

That

they would rather risk their children

To the void of sickness

Rather then the beauty of chaos.