The Subversion of Feeling: Autism, Poetic Meter, and the Biology of Emotion
Discover the "lost stanza" of the poem Intent. Poet Oryanna Borges analyzes the somatic impact of autism, the effects of Sertraline on interoception, and the role of poetic meter as a cognitive mask
The Break of the Fifth Stanza
While preparing another post, I stumbled upon a stray stanza just above the poem “Blessing.” To my astonishment, it belongs to the poem posted last week, “Intent”.
In the original Portuguese, the poem established the Redondilha Maior (7 syllables) as the norm. In this English translation, we maintained a similar pressure through a tight 8-syllable rhythm in the first four stanzas. However, the fifth stanza is metrically anarchic. It overflows the form, demanding longer, broken lines of 10 and 11 syllables. The subversion literally does not fit within the traditional 8-syllable pulse, mirroring how the ‘vile nature’ of intense feeling cannot be contained by the masks we wear
The Metrical Shift: From Mask to Anarchy
In English poetry, the “norm” or “mask” is often represented by the Iambic Tetrameter (8 syllables with a steady beat). In our translation of “Intent”, we established this steady rhythm in the first four stanzas to mirror the “masking” process.
The initial stanzas follow a tighter structure, mostly 8 syllables per line, creating a predictable, almost mechanical pulse. This represents the effort to contain the sensory overload within a rigid form—the poetic equivalent of a forced social performance.
The discovery of the fifth stanza disrupts this entirely. To reflect your original intent, the English translation of this final stanza intentionally breaks the “8-syllable norm,” stretching into 10 and 11 syllables. It reveals a radical acceptance of the condition of existence and perhaps a calculated subversion which literally does not fit within traditional poetic form, demanding longer and broken verses (8, 9, and 10 syllables).
The Radical Importance of Feeling
I could easily speak of the complete refusal of victimization in this last stanza. Or of a first step toward integrating the shadow, that psychic spring where persistent masking has hidden much of my true self and held back great potential. But I need to talk about the importance of feeling.
For autists, feelings always resemble acute infatuations. They induce a feverish state in the body and cloud reason. They require possession, permanent contact. And this “feeling too much” dysregulates.
But “feeling too little” turns life into this crazy interactive theater, to be interpreted almost always through the lens of an alienating comicality arising from dissociation. Dissociation shifts us from the conflict inherent in existence to a hypothetical—and perhaps therefore impotent—audience. This is a depersonalization disorder framed within dissociation that I believe is a psychic resource heavily used by Level 1 support autists to operationalize the mask.
The Courage to Embrace the Monster
By realizing that I navigated the suffering in the poem “Intent” and appropriated it in this fifth stanza, I felt as if I were embracing the monster in me. Perhaps “Intent” was my first look into this spring still forming in the underground veins of feeling. And I am pleased to imbue this feat with courage, condensed into four verses:
For I feel, and in feeling I take my own delight
Without constraint, I let the current flow so free
This vile nature I reject with all my inner might
But if it seizes me, I refuse to turn and flee
Stanza 4 highlights that there is no choice; the body is the structure whose collapse turns it into a prison. Feeling, at this stage, is not optional; it is acceptance so the system can overflow the overload and shut down to “cool off”. By appropriating this “non-choice,” I absorb its strength in an almost anthropophagic way.
The Pharmacology of Numbness
The lack of Sertraline in my system brought a cataclysmic effect for two days. And the cathartic effect of understanding the only music I could hear in the state of emotional blunting I had been in for months. Medicated, I still sang “Behind Blue Eyes”. Without medication, I understood this musical echolalia. This song brought another: “Bang and Blame” (R.E.M.), which completed the process, finishing months of therapy trying to access the trauma of domestic violence and abusive relationships that drew my erratic paths through life in recent years.
Research shows that emotional blunting is a documented effect of Sertraline, and there are no specific studies on its use in autists. Therefore, there is no way to know how much the medication compromises an individual on the spectrum crossed by alexithymia, nor how much it facilitates dissociative states. From my perception, by splitting my rational perception from my precarious ability to feel, the medication brought me this almost permanent state of dissociation.
The Price of Feeling Fully
The counterpoint to the inability to enjoy music is a lower reactivity to frustration. I experienced systemic precariousness in the public health system (SUS), far from humanized care. I felt the thermometer rise fast, and the effort to regulate myself while walking home was exhausting. I contained the explosion, imploding silently.
If I don’t deal with feelings, they destroy me from the inside out. Perhaps that’s why writing becomes this healthy instance, a therapeutic means where I can gather the parts that contemporary medicine has segmented. Medication is not support; it is containment. In my case, it meant blocking two therapeutic processes: writing and therapy itself.
A Manifesto for Holistic Medicine
What fragmentary medicine today cannot connect is what I will have to take to my next doctor’s appointment: a holistic view of a clear case of autistic burnout. I must correlate recurrent migraines with comorbid physical issues like hypermobility, muscle contraction, postural deviations, and TMJ problems related to anxiety and pernicious rumination. Alexithymia also contributes to a constant feeling of inadequacy.
Modern medicine needs to understand that the “multidisciplinary team” is a fallacy if it doesn’t humanize the individual. Level 1 support autists are enthusiasts of the mind and human behavior; our voices should be heard as a source of knowledge, not just noted as “verbose behavior” in medical records.
Intent (Full Poem) Crying, gnashing of teeth, a chill Suffocation, anger, and heat Anguish, tension, a mind’s wild thrill Sweat, nonconformity, a tremor's beat How many words in the intent simple and honest, to say that the sweet heart I present feels a hatred that makes one shudder The body yields to convulsion’s might To gestures harsh and required For the heart in such a plight Demands the strength of a chest untired Every word, though soft it stays Upon the ears, a gentle sound Does not evoke the peaceful ways Like breath, they scatter on the ground For I feel, and in feeling I take my own delight Without constraint, I let the current flow so free This vile nature I reject with all my inner might But if it seizes me, I refuse to turn and flee Oryanna Borges Poet and Researcher
This analysis of meter as cognitive mask is deeply insightful. The way the fifth stanza breaks the 8-syllable pattern to reflect emotional overflow that can't be contained is such a powerfull metaphor for autistic masking. I hadn't considered how Sertraline might specifically impact interoception in ways that complicate dissociative states for autists. The connection between emotional blunting and the inability to acces music as echolalia is honestly fascinating from a neuroscience angle.