My Shadow in a Mirror Darkly:

The World is not-what I know,

The Light is a different Hue.

The Sound, a Language, strange-unknown,

The Touch, a Sensation so alien new.

To exist within a world of noise,

Is to hear the hum of light,

A frequency the others miss-

Too sharp for common sight.

The Crowd is a Sea, I cannot wade,

The Words a Storm, I can hear,

The Faces all a Blur, I see,

Yet, Truth is always so near.

The social rule, a heavy mask,

To hide the inner fray,

While “small talk” feels like passing time

In slow, cold, rotting, dull, rotting decay.

My Focus is a stimulating silver Ball,

Held tightly in my quiet hand,

I walk the path of “monotropism,”

A vast empty solitary land.

The Mind, a Web, I weave-alone,

In Patterns, Bright and Clear,

The World, may not comprehend,

But I am always forever, here.

To dwell in Patterns-precise and deep,

An exacting Logic, cool and clear,

Where others find a Tangled Mesh,

To find a unique special Hemisphere,

Something is off, and odd for me,

A world glimpsed with but a glance.

Knowing but yet it is always unknown,

I stand alone in a different stance.

The world is a cacophony loud,

The world is fiercely bright,

I seek a softer, mellow space,

Where truth is spoken with a slant,

And I can find my own safe place.

My brain, begun to giggle and laugh,

now split divided cut into two half.

I mumbled like a dimwitted fool,

sane and insane in a intertwined duel.

And though 'tis years ago that day,

still I chuckle my brain at play.

My brain keeps giggling--still,

laughing the mirth never to fill.

Yet something's odd in me within,

that noise, that internal din!

That person that I am now was,

whom they were now then yet does.

But this one does not feel the same—

that feeling it has not but no name.

Could it yet be a touch of madness is this?

final surcease of the world could be bliss...