Neurodivergent and proud (poems by Marcella Boccia)

A heart in intermittence (Marcella Boccia) 🎧 English

My heart beats like a clockthat does not know time—its rhythm erratic,its pulse a rebellionagainst the steady march of hours.In the silence of the night,it quickens,like a lover who cannot wait,then falters,a hesitationtoo heavy to bear,too light to ignore.I am both the flame and the ash,the fire that devoursand the embers that linger,smoldering in the quiet.My heart—a song sung in staccato,each beat a notedropped in the void,too brief to reach the ears of the stars,too long to escape the grip of the earth.In the spaces between beats,I hear the echoesof everything I never said,the whispers of a pastthat clings to the present,like shadows that never leave.The gaps in my heart are filled with them,those forgotten words,the dreams too fragile to hold,the love too heavy to speak.Do you hear it too?The silence that swellsin the spaces where my heart should be,the quiet that roarslouder than any cry?A heart in intermittence,a pulse that tremblesbetween life and death,between the now and the never,caught in the tremor of what wasand what can never be.I am both the woundand the healing,the question without an answer,the longing without a name.My heart—a place where time falters,where desire lingers,where hope is a shadowand love a ghost.In the gaps of its beat,I find myself—a breath caught in the web of moments,forever waiting,forever breaking,forever alive in the silence.

VOICES BETWEEN THE SYNAPSES 🎧 (Marcella Boccia)
I hear them—the voices that live between the synapses,whispering secretsin a language that trembles like broken glass,too sharp to touch,too soft to hold.They dance on the edges of thought,flickering like firefliescaught between moments,too fleeting to grasp,too persistent to ignore.They are the sound of silence,the music of a mind undone,the rhythm of a pulsethat cannot find its beat.Do you hear them too?The ones that call your nameand forget it in the same breath,the ones that say nothing,but speak louder than the storm?I hear them,in the spaces between my thoughts,in the tremor of my skin,in the hum of my bones—a symphony composed in the darkand played without a conductor.I hear them—the voices between the synapses,like shadows that refuse to fade,like ghosts who never die,they live in me,and I live in them.Too many to count,too fragmented to form a word,too whole to be nothing.They are the echoes of everything I’ve lost,and the fragments of what I’ve yet to find.They pull me apart and weave me back together,one thread at a time,until I am both whole and broken,a song that can never be sungbut plays on forever.Do you see the dance?The one that happens between the sparks,in the silence between the sounds,in the chaos of my thoughts?Do you feel the weight of their presence,the pressure that shapes my mindand shatters it at the same time?I am both the flame and the ash,the fire and the smoke,the one who hears the voicesbut cannot speak their name.Between the synapses,where thoughts are born and die,I exist—too many voices to be called mine,too few to leave me alone.

I am not a diagnosis 🎧 (Marcella Boccia)
I am not a label pinned to my skin,not a diagnosis that can be circled in ink,not a box to be checkedon a form that knows nothing of the depth of my soul.I am not a name that can be spokenand understood,not a word that fits neatly in the mouthand slips from the tongue with ease.I am the silence after the scream,the darkness after the light,the space between thoughtswhere no one dares to look.I am the storm that rises without warning,the calm that follows without reason,the river that carves its own paththrough mountains no one sees.I am not a diagnosis.I am the fire that burns and heals,the hands that tremble and build,the heart that shatters and mendsin the same breath.I am too much,and never enough—a paradox in the flesh,a riddle too tangledto ever be solved.Do you see me?Not as a label,not as a disorder to be fixed,but as a wild thing—fierce and freein my madness,in my quiet,in the pieces of methat do not belong to this world,but to the spaces between stars.I am not a diagnosis.I am the blood that flowsthrough every broken vein,the voice that whispersin the shadows of your mind,the song you cannot name,but feel in your bones.I am not a diagnosis.I am the breath between the words,the silence that follows the cry,the chaos that calls you home.

Thoughts in overdose 🎧 (Marcella Boccia)
I drink from the cup of thoughtuntil the edges bleed into the void,swallowed by the flood of voicesthat speak louder than silence,louder than love,louder than the beating of my heartagainst the cage of my chest.Too many thoughts,too many roads winding in circles,each one a path to nowhere,each one a siren’s callthat pulls me deeper into the storm.I am lost in the overdose,drowning in the weight of my own mind—a heavy, suffocating tidethat never recedes.I think too much,but what does it mean to thinkwhen the thoughts have no edges,when the mind is a labyrinthw unraveling,lost in a sea of endless reflectionsthat never stop crashing?Tell me, do you feel it too?The thoughts in overdose,the chaos of too muchand not enough,the space between breathswhere we cease to existbut continue to burn.

TOO MUCH AND NEVER ENOUGH 🎧 (Marcella Boxcia)
I am the river that never rests,too full of stars to be calm,too deep to be touched by light,a torrent that knows no shore,a longing that swallows the nightand spits out the dawn.I carry too much within me—the weight of a thousand silences,the echoes of words never spoken,the dreams of a thousand livesI never had the chance to live.I am too much,and yet,I am always empty.Do you see the gap in my soul?The space between love and loss,where I keep every wordthat never found its way to your lips.The emptiness,the hunger,it gnaws at me,a beast with a thousand faces—each one yours,and none of them enough.I am a flame that burns too bright,consuming the worldand leaving nothing but ashes,a song too loud to be heard,its melody lost in the wind.I am too much,and never enough,always searching for somethingI cannot name,but feel in every breath I take.And still, I walk this road—too far from the truth,too close to the edge,holding too much in my hands,and nothing at all.The weight of everything I amdrags me down,but the sky calls me higher,and in this space between too much and never enough,I am both broken and whole.Do you understand now?Or do I remain,too muchand never enough?

A MIND IN CHECKERED PATTERNS 🎧 (Marcella Boccia)
I am a tapestry of restless threads,woven in patterns no one understands,each thought a square,each feeling a line,each moment a fracturein the delicate design of my mind.Do you hear the whispers?The secrets that slip through the gaps,as I trace the edges of madness,my fingers tremblingat the sharpness of truth.A mind in checkered patterns—a puzzle whose pieceswill never fit.The world spins like a carousel,one breath a revolution,the next a fall into a void.I watch the colors blend and blur,a swirl of reds and grays,as my soul dances between them—a shadow moving,yet never quite whole.I am both the prisoner and the key,the cage that holds me,the bars that set me free.In the chaos, I seek order,in the stillness, I seek the storm.Each thought an echo of a past I cannot remember,each feeling a door I am too afraid to open.Can you see it?The way my heart beats in fractured rhythm,the way my mind sways like a tree in the wind,roots tangled in yesterday,branches reaching for tomorrow.A mind in checkered patterns—a map I will never read.And yet, I walk.Step after step,in circles I cannot break.I am the labyrinthand the lost traveler within it,seeking something I cannot name,but knowing it existsjust beyond the edges of this mind—a truth waiting to be foundin the spaces between the patterns.Do you see the pattern now?Or am I still a mystery,woven in the dark?

I trace the sky with trembling fingers,
wondering if your gaze still lingers
in the soft glow of forgotten stars.
Heaven has your eyes now—
those endless pools,
those windows to a soul
I never fully knew. In the silence between dusk and dawn,
I hear your laughter,
carried on the wind,
and the taste of your name
still burns my lips like bitter wine.
You are not gone,
you are the echo in the night,
the breath of air I cannot breathe,
the fire that has turned to ash. Heaven has your eyes now,
and they haunt me—
those endless pools of sorrow
I fell into,
drowned in the weight of their beauty.
Every star I see is a piece of you,
a reflection of something I lost,
something I cannot hold
but cannot forget. I weep not for your absence,
but for the silence that remains,
for the spaces between us
where your voice once lived,
now swallowed by the dark.
You are a memory made of light,
but my fingers cannot touch you—
only the ghosts of your gaze,
now scattered across the heavens,
reminding me that heaven
has your eyes,
and they will never return to me.

Borderline blues (Marcella Boccia)

I walk the edge of silence,where words are knives, and silence is a wound.Between two breaths, I am both fire and snow,a soul split open like the sky at dusk—half light, half shadow,always in-between,never quite whole.Do you see me?The one who wears madness like a cloak,whose eyes are mirrors of shattered dreams,who dances in the ruins of hope,each step a prayer to the unknown.I am the storm you cannot tame,the sea that refuses to be mapped.My heart beats in intervals,a drum with no rhythm—borderline, they call it.But what if it is the only truth I know?Tell me, where does the storm end and the stillness begin?Is it in the space between thought and breath?Or in the dark places where I hide,where even love trembles and falters?I am both the artist and the canvas,painting with tears that never dry,writing with blood that never fades.A poem carved in the marrow of my bones,a song sung in the spaces between madness and grace.But still, I walk this edge,one step closer to the abyss,one step further from the world you know.And I will keep walking,until I learn to breathe in the void,until the blues of this broken soulbecome the music of the stars.Do you see me now?Or am I still just a shadow,dancing in the dark?