a sketch in autism: morning ritual disrupted hot circle bursts open throws brightness through clear square in sleeping place walls throb color the me of me sways in and out waves of hurt snake around my paper coat the mother has touched the mother voice echoes sound upon sound scratching the hard insides that keep me from melting led to place where smell become shapes in mouth see round cup white water rains on brown specks noisy in mouth like smashing rocks SHINY SHOVEL IS WRONG bells ring THUD slam into hardness round top of me where eyes are not where soft strings are i pull with stars living on the sticks i do not walk on THUD THUD almost there place where bright turns dull sound turns off seeing turns soft voice moves like green on wood shovel now has face on end the mouse that lives in the talking box all things rest neatly now like bent cloth the mother forms sounds that mean – fill me up face splits open mickey zooms up close with eyes that tell me everything.