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The Autism Spectrum According to Autistic People

Autism neurodiversity
Autism neurodiversity

Art & Reviews

Poetry: How Do You Know?

Who can change the tesseract that engulfs us towards doom?
Who has all the answers, who can say what life means?
Worst of all, how do you know?

Poetry: Beholden

I can’t tell them it’s all right, but I can be with them.
I am still strong,
and I will never forget the green, and the wind from the high places.
—This is when I am—

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: I can’t believe

The knowledge of being autistic and engaging with the autistic community has restored my faith in my intuition. This poem describes the dialogue I wish to have with those who advise me against my intuition.

Poetry: How Do You Know?

Who can change the tesseract that engulfs us towards doom?
Who has all the answers, who can say what life means?
Worst of all, how do you know?

Poetry: Beholden

I can’t tell them it’s all right, but I can be with them.
I am still strong,
and I will never forget the green, and the wind from the high places.
—This is when I am—

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: I can’t believe

The knowledge of being autistic and engaging with the autistic community has restored my faith in my intuition. This poem describes the dialogue I wish to have with those who advise me against my intuition.

Poetry: How Do You Know?

Who can change the tesseract that engulfs us towards doom?
Who has all the answers, who can say what life means?
Worst of all, how do you know?

Poetry: Beholden

I can’t tell them it’s all right, but I can be with them.
I am still strong,
and I will never forget the green, and the wind from the high places.
—This is when I am—

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: I can’t believe

The knowledge of being autistic and engaging with the autistic community has restored my faith in my intuition. This poem describes the dialogue I wish to have with those who advise me against my intuition.