Tag: autistic writer

  • Author’s Note

    Some people assume that because I write confessional poetry, vulnerability comes naturally to me.

    It doesn’t.

    My first instinct is almost always to make a joke.

    If something hurts, I’ll reach for humor. If something feels too exposed, I’ll bury it beneath a cartoon reference, a comic book nod, or a punchline that arrives just before the truth does.

    This poem is about that instinct.

    It explores the strange contradiction at the center of my writing: I’m willing to confess almost anything—as long as I can disguise it first.

    The title, 5:01, marks another early morning when my thoughts were moving faster than I could organize them. And “Pull the Punchline Back” became my way of describing what happens when I realize I’ve hidden behind humor for just a second too long.

    Sometimes the joke protects me.

    Sometimes it prevents me from saying what I actually mean.

    This poem lives somewhere between those two realities.

    Rowan Evans


    A lone person walking through an empty street at sunrise while faded comic book imagery dissolves into the morning light, symbolizing humor giving way to emotional honesty.
    Sometimes the hardest part of confession isn’t finding the words—it’s resisting the joke that tries to replace them.

    5:01 (Pull the Punchline Back)
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    5:01—
    the morning comes
    and my thoughts run,
    like a marathon.

    You see—
    most the time
    my thoughts move quick,
    like a sprint—
    Usain?

    No, insane.

    I bolt when I feel
    I care too much—

    here the vulnerability comes,
    so where’s the joke at?
    I got to hide that—
    pull the punchline back.

    I put a brave face on—
    they call me Courage,
    even though
    I’m a cowardly dog.

    Isn’t it funny?
    I’m a confessional poet,
    but I hide the confession
    behind a wall of jokes—

    and cartoon references—
    can’t forget the comic books.

    The page is a phone booth,
    I go into to change—
    but I’m not trying to be a hero here,
    there’s no S on my chest.

    I’m just here for those
    that are stressed and struggling.

    And this is my problem,
    I’ve got my own problems,
    then I take mo’ problems,
    they were yo’ problems—

    now I’m juggling.

    The sad thing is—
    the whole time
    this is what my mind
    has been running from.

    It’s incredible—
    how fast I Dash,
    gone in a Flash,
    like I ran to the past
    to escape—

    everything I want.

    Connection.
    Reflection.

    So I keep my feet moving
    until I get where I’m going,
    and I’m not showin’—
    no signs of slowin’.


    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [I’d Rather Try]
    Anyone can promise they’d die for someone. But love isn’t built on one dramatic moment—it’s built on showing up, trying again tomorrow, and proving your words through consistent action.

    [Tots, Rocks and All]
    What begins as a surreal collection of tater tots, rocks, comic book references, and runaway thoughts slowly reveals something much quieter: a poem about creativity, vulnerability, and the simple hope of finding someone willing to hold your heart.

    [Ocean Waves (1, 4, 3)]
    What begins as a surreal collection of tater tots, rocks, comic book references, and runaway thoughts slowly reveals something much quieter: a poem about creativity, vulnerability, and the simple hope of finding someone willing to hold your heart.

    [L Words & Heart]
    A playful, self-aware poem about love, longing, loyalty, and the quiet ways another person can reshape our inner world. What begins as humor slowly reveals a heartfelt confession about affection, imagination, and the faces that linger in our dreams.

    [No You and I, Only Us]
    A hopeful free verse poem about empathy, borders, and imagining a world where humanity matters more than division.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • Author’s Note

    Pulled Away Again came from that quiet guilt that builds when you fade from people you love—not because you’ve stopped caring, but because you’re too tangled in your own thoughts to reach out. It’s about the strange duality of existing in someone’s life and yet feeling like a ghost in it, the ache of being remembered and forgotten at the same time. I wrote this as a kind of apology, but not to anyone specific. It’s for all the friendships I’ve let drift away, for all the messages I’ve left unanswered, for every time I thought silence would hurt less than presence… for every time I thought existing in my head was easier than simply existing in the world.


    A solitary figure dissolving into shadows, with golden light tracing cracks across them, symbolizing introspection, isolation, and the hidden beauty of brokenness.
    “Pulled Away Again – exploring the delicate ache of distance, memory, and friendship through introspection and confession.”

    Pulled Away Again
    (Schrödinger’s Friendship)
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Fuck… I pulled away again—
    disappeared into shadows,
    became a bad friend.

    I don’t keep in touch,
    and I know it sucks.
    But,
    what am I supposed to say?
    I’m sorry,
    but you’ll tell me
    I don’t need to apologize…

    And I know,
    the sorry’s not for you.
    It’s for me,
    because I feel like a bad friend.
    I feel like the sad friend.

    The…
    nobody really
    wants around friend.

    The giver,
    the lover,
    the seer
    of broken things.
    The seer of beauty
    in all the broken things.

    I see the gold
    that fills the cracks.
    But only in others.
    Those Kintsugi souls,
    they shine so bright.

    While I just feel trapped…
    while I sit here still cracked,
    pieces scattered, never put back
    together.

    Fuck…
    I pulled away again,
    isolated, faded from perception.
    Because I feel…
    You’re better off without me.

    I’ll amount to nothing,
    And I know
    I’m not the only one
    that doubts me.

    Fuck…
    I don’t keep in touch,
    and I know it sucks.
    Yeah, I know,
    every—
    I’m sorry…
    It’s not for you.
    It’s for me.

    Because I feel
    like I’m a bad friend.
    The out of sight
    out of mind friend.
    The one nobody remembers,
    but somehow not forgotten.

    It’s a—
    Schrödinger’s Friendship.
    I’m both in your life
    and not.
    I am just walking rot.

    Sorry for everything
    I’ve never said,
    sorry for every moment,
    every thought.
    Especially the thoughts
    I thought I forgot.

    I’m sorry for the way
    I fade
    into obscurity.
    You’re always on mind
    but I’m afraid
    of what I’ll say.

    Will today be the day?
    Will I finally I slip up?
    Say something stupid,
    and fuck it up?
    Be just another disappointment—
    A regret etched in history,
    a blemish on an otherwise
    positive memory.

    I’m a face
    you can’t place.
    A name
    that rings no bells,
    rings no memory.
    I am
    my own
    worst enemy.


    If you’ve made it this far, why don’t you check out more of my work? You can find the full library [here].