for all of
my neurodivergencies
keeping me
mostly miserable
i am aware
even if i am
my own worst
nightmare
i am living
a dream

not only do i
get to scribble all
the strangest
thoughts from
my broken brain

but there are
actually people
who seem to enjoy it

there are shirts
emblazoned
with my likeness
sixty some odd
books with my words
and one hot pink
coffee mug

i may not make
enough money
to live easily
but i cannot recall
many dreams where
i needed money at all

while i spill out
every overanalyzed
emotion to the æther
soaked through with
a lonesome fool’s
endless ocean of tears

i am grateful
to have found a tribe
to share this outlet
i feared would
ever drown me

i remember how
i was barely a dam
at the verge of collapse
overwhelmed by
oscillating insanities

instead i bind
the racing fissures
with semipoetic
duct tape
free to keep both
words and tears
everflowing