It’s wrong of me to say life is hell,

However the way l am at times,
Seen by others as living in a cracked shell,
For me, more of looking into a deep well,
Trying to understand life’s’ lines!
I can only but ever be who l am,
As others would perceive me to be,
Yet l am an Aspergic man,
With this comes a certain degree,
Of understanding of when it began!
My mind is as yours but not,
Seeing the world through definition,
Learning more but easily forgot,
And awarded to mental decomposition,
Giving away more in a lifetime to rot!
You, see me as somewhat different,
I see you as merely typical,
Mankind life always misspent ,
Trust me it’s not me that is odd!
Just the stereo neurotypicals!
Even l can agree to a certain torment,
Life is awkward for me admittedly,
Purgatory is wrong, but l meant,
Living with this disorder of irregular tranquillity!
Active brain that cries in lament!
Trying to get to grips with thoughts,
From darkened corners and deep crevice,
Constantly distraught!
Knowing no peace, ever busy in exercise,
Crunching thoughts!
Woke up this year and decided to write,
Emotions and ideas that appeared,
Within my space both day and night!
Verse, prose and even modern lyrics, how weird!
Helped it has to release the black and white!
As time is progressing l find that,
It’s not enough to just to express one field,
Now l explore all forms of literary combat!
Discovering feelings that were concealed,
Making written forms look like scat!
So life therefore is awkward l do not disagree,
Exploring and understanding more of who is me,
Trying to get to grips with who l am,
As this different but normal Aspergic man,
Same as you perhaps, but still a solitary tree!

© Rory Matier 2010

7 thoughts on “Purgatory

  1. Rory, you seem to be on a voyage of poetic nostalgia.
    It is perhaps fortunate for the world that very little that I have written in the last month, let alone the last decade, survives.

    I think that your material, however, based upon honesty it would seem, provides an enticing little window into the past.

    In the void float you and me
    Drifting free in purgatory
    Are we here, or are we there?
    I wonder if we’re anywhere.

    1. Evening Richmond – yes, l do revisit a lot of my poetry, or rhyme as many prefer to have it said. I am like a moth to the bright light with poetry. Many were written years ago, and l have a few that are being written now. When l am getting close to penning a new collection of poems, l tend to have a sort of an awakening. Currently the light is dim, but getting brighter. Lord knows, if that makes for any sense 🙂

Comments are closed.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: