The Spectrum Of Me

Whispers ring about my ears like cathedral bells

and I can hear the hum of electricity that other's mute into their daily existence.

Each sense tightening around my mind like a vice grip,

fighting for their dominance.

Curiosity has me wonder if maybe I'm a superhero,

my senses so strong sometimes they don't seem quite human.

I'm autistic, yet I feel like an alien.

As if earth is a trial run of existence

as I sharpen my senses and become a supernova of a being.

My skin can feel the touch of someone hours later,

holding onto their love as long as I possibly can.

I taste the underlying flavors in someone's feast of love

and know each herb is writing a chapter in the book of their meal.

I see the world in layers like acrylic paint,

each color lending depth I can nearly trace with my fingertips

and still feel the traces of horse hair in the tiny lines.

I can stop and smell the roses

and every flower visited by the bee's buzzing about my head when I pause to sniff.

I am that computer in the basement,

working despite the conditions,

warning you about sensory overload

whilst driving themselves into overdrive

merely trying to exist.

- From an autistic mind