Neurodivergent and proud (poems by Marcella Boccia)

In Neurodivergent and Proud , Marcella Boccia, an Italian poet in Srinagar, weaves a lyrical exploration of identity, intensity, and defiance. With echoes of Yeats’ mysticism, Tagore’s spirituality, and Neruda’s raw passion—shrouded in a dark, haunting beauty—this collection delves into the depths of living with borderline personality disorder. Set against the turbulent backdrop of war-torn Kashmir, these poems mirror the fractured landscapes of both place and psyche, capturing the weight of emotions that refuse to be tamed. Through verses that oscillate between tenderness and storm, Boccia embraces the chaos of her mind as both a burden and a gift, rejecting the labels imposed upon her. A thread of longing weaves through the collection—an enduring, platonically charged connection with a Kashmiri poetry professor, a love story written in silence and distance. At once a declaration of selfhood and an act of poetic rebellion, Neurodivergent and Proud is a manifesto for those

Neurodivergent and proud (poems by Marcella Boccia) is a arts podcast hosted by Marcella Boccia, with 48 episodes on record and a Required Pod Score of 80. PitchCentric scores this show on Booking Probability, Listen Score, and live audience signals refreshed every 24 hours.

Marcella Boccia hosts Neurodivergent and proud (poems by Marcella Boccia), a arts show with 48 episodes published.

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  Episode #46

  Love does not save me, but it holds me (Marcella Boccia) 🎧 English

  Feb 11, 20252 minS1

  Love does not save me, but it holds me (Marcella Boccia)<br /><br />Love does not come to rescue mefrom the depths of my soul’s tempest—it does not offer its hands,glowing like stars above the chaos.No, love does not save.But it holds me,tenderly,in the way shadows hold the earthwhen the sun has gone to rest.It does not extinguish the firesthat burn within me,nor still the storm in my chest—it watches,quiet as a ghost,as I spiral into myself,and waitslike a forgotten songthat lingers in the corners of silence.Love d...

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  Episode #45

  Screams suffocated in pillows (Marcella Boccia) 🎧 English

  Feb 11, 20252 minS1

  Screams suffocated in pillows (Marcella Boccia)<br /><br />Beneath the weight of dreams,I scream—a sound swallowed by the hollow night,a cry that never escapes my throat,its edges sharp like broken glass,but muffled, lost in the softness of a lie.In the silence of my room,where the walls are made of shadows,I am crushed by the weight of my own breath,each inhale a struggle,each exhale a surrender to the dark.The pillow beneath my headbecomes a tomb for the words I dare not say,its fabric soaked with the tearsI do not wa...

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  Episode #44

  Dying and reborn in the same hour (Marcella Boccia) 🎧 English

  Feb 11, 20252 minS1

  Dying and reborn in the same hour (Marcella Boccia)<br /><br />In the hour when the sky bleeds into the earth,I die—not in the silence of a distant night,but in the trembling breath of dawn,where life and death make love,their bodies woven in the threads of shadows.I die in the arms of a memory,one too fragile to hold,its weight a river that cannot be crossed,its waters too bitter to drink.The past pours over me,its fingers leaving bruises,each one a story I no longer wish to tell.Yet, in th...

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  Episode #43

  In the arms of nothingness (Marcella Boccia) 🎧 English

  Feb 11, 20252 minS1

  In the arms of nothingness (Marcella Boccia)<br /><br />I lay myself down in the arms of nothingness,where shadows breathe like lovers,and silence carves its name into my soul.The void holds me close,its cold fingers trailing along my spine,each touch a whisper of the world undone.No stars hang in the sky,no moon to guide my sorrow,only the weight of empty promisesthat echo through the chambers of my heart.I have forgotten what it means to dreamand yet, I dream in the dark.The earth beneath me is a grave,and I, a...

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  Episode #42

  Poetry keeps me alive (Marcella Boccia) 🎧 English

  Feb 11, 20252 minS1

  Poetry keeps me alive (Marcella Boccia)<br /><br />Poetry is the breath I stealfrom the silence of the earth,a thief who robs the night of its secrets,and leaves me trembling,naked in the light of unsung stars.It is the fire I drink,its heat turning my veins to flame,until my skin crumbles into ash—and I rise again,reborn in words that echo in the shadows.Poetry keeps me alive,when the world falls silent,when the weight of history crushes my bonesand time, like a shadow,eats away the hours.It is the rhythm of my...

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