I'd Like To Display My Poetry

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So, I've been writing for a couple of years and I'm 17. I've been told I'm really really good ?

Poem about Autism:

Memories elude minds
turned into stone,
the bliss from nothing,
shifting gear with tearing eyelids.
Everything from yesterday
blesses the heart of mankind,
the postmodern viewpoint of truth,
the fact that it is merely perspective.
Autistic people elaborate,
dictate morals by
innovating their mass
of people under their name.
But their ghosts figures
never marry a throne,
they only marry madness,
because people suckle the creator
out of craft up-to-date.

The Vixen Who Questions Love:

Will bloods soak up the vein
of amour that sings,
to ignite telepathic hubs
where intuits drink?

Will alabaster auras
whirl around a diamond breath,
to intoxicate my mind
throughout fumes of verve?

Will fields of starlight's balm
bask in fervent moons,
to elaborate husks
blessed by saffron clouds?

Will electricity
clutch passions from torrid lips,
to cherish earlobes
redefined by wisdom?

Will omitted words reunite
as cryptic meanings billow,
to build a sea of rapports
between the hunger of two?

Will fairy-tale eyes penetrate
like needles, into sips of dew,
to show Aphrodite's craft
from a futuristic point?

Will a subconscious kiss blaze
inferno's steaming skin,
to display memories,
a well of watery chants?

Will celestial views cape
me in enigmatic grace,
to possess me throughout
the course of their stride?


In The Mind of An Unfaltering Confidence:

In the mind of an unfaltering confidence,
a twisted demon is displayed as a genius,
who tricks a maestro into being a deity,
with solace for his own state of being.

In the mind of an unfaltering confidence,
a sick recession is a stiff movement,
a way to resonate to humanity's storm,
with thoughts that display tomorrow's face.

In the mind of an unfaltering confidence,
a figure is symbolism through its verse,
a way to gather an ambiguous expression,
with metaphors directed to the masses.

In the mind of an unfaltering confidence,
a broken glass is a crack of realism,
a way to love reality with flawed views,
with beauty consumed in superficiality.

I absolutely love The Vixen Who Questions Love. Sorry, I'm not much of a critic so don't have a descriptive response to it except it's really striking and powerful in its specificity.