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The Autism Spectrum According to Autistic People

Autism neurodiversity

avouleance

avouleance
Avouleance is a writer looking to explore experiences with different mental health conditions through poetry and prose in various places online, while doing a research masters in chemistry on the side. You can read more of their content on thier facebook page https://www.facebook.com/AvouleanceWrites/ And their subreddit And buy them a coffee here https://www.buymeacoffee.com/KhFxtlq4H

Poetry: Four AM Thoughts

You’d think the world were ending. With how null-coloured cracks rack the sky. And razor winds shred the upside down sea overhead, Into shards of

Poetry: Arson Season

It hurts to hold this hissing light.
Sears the skin.
Leaves ugly scars.
Where it tears with acrid claws.

Poem: SSR Island

It’s my island, mine alone, so I’m alone. Singing to myself and the sea. With equally endless ever-churning fractal blacks above and below me. And

Short Story: Constellation Prize

Stella Brown. Not to be ignored! How to introduce her? She’s an artist “aspiring,” and astronomer “amateur,” being interviewed by Pareidolia Press. Because, simply, she deserves to be.

Poetry: Four AM Thoughts

You’d think the world were ending. With how null-coloured cracks rack the sky. And razor winds shred the upside down sea overhead, Into shards of

Poetry: Arson Season

It hurts to hold this hissing light.
Sears the skin.
Leaves ugly scars.
Where it tears with acrid claws.

Poem: SSR Island

It’s my island, mine alone, so I’m alone. Singing to myself and the sea. With equally endless ever-churning fractal blacks above and below me. And

Short Story: Constellation Prize

Stella Brown. Not to be ignored! How to introduce her? She’s an artist “aspiring,” and astronomer “amateur,” being interviewed by Pareidolia Press. Because, simply, she deserves to be.

Poetry: Four AM Thoughts

You’d think the world were ending. With how null-coloured cracks rack the sky. And razor winds shred the upside down sea overhead, Into shards of

Poetry: Arson Season

It hurts to hold this hissing light.
Sears the skin.
Leaves ugly scars.
Where it tears with acrid claws.

Poem: SSR Island

It’s my island, mine alone, so I’m alone. Singing to myself and the sea. With equally endless ever-churning fractal blacks above and below me. And

Short Story: Constellation Prize

Stella Brown. Not to be ignored! How to introduce her? She’s an artist “aspiring,” and astronomer “amateur,” being interviewed by Pareidolia Press. Because, simply, she deserves to be.