Separate, A divide, I am me of performance
I am me: real, brain fried
I don't like mixing professional and personal spaces, when presenting a partial image of me. Partial's fine, that's all that they need to see.
But, then when lines are crossed and a colleague brings real me conversations into the performance space, it wrecks my spirit, destroys my curve balls flowing
Errors flying, elbows trying
Pushing my ritualistic boxings
and not allowing me to own my rightful space
'Neurotic', catatonic
You noticed my neurodivergence
Makes me feel I blurred lines, whether or not
you want it
Inside I'm their tonic
but there needs to be elements, never even
truly, dishonest
Just gaps, spacings, manipulation
Keeping for me, mine, my time
Those that I want to know me
They know me when I'm in spaces
that can safely, disgracefully (!!)
rebelliously, be mine
Then, when we are in the work environment
You may know my soul
But, I'm spacing me gently
I'm curiosity
I'm just a little bit
All the time!
Let it out
in my own moments
If I can't compartmentalise
It voids my time
If you shed the layers of real, vulnerability
Not theirs
Trauma,
eyes beyond the shine
Compartmentalise
or slide
I am sweet poison
and we are the ride
In shapes of rigid
and undefined
I’m mysterious
Held inside
An image of maintenance
But you step inside
Merging two worlds
within earshot
and towards, myself inwards
unkind
If I can separate
Close the door at the end of
the day, regenerate
There should be a world where
there’s no need to layer
up, degrade me, silence
A controlled amount of me
on a teaspoon
but they feel it’s a plate
Answering questions
but saying nothing
Honest, I don’t denigrate
But, when I feel comfy one on one
Or overwhelmed and I emerge
The 'positives' of my ADHD
The strengths you’d never want to
live with
But observe -
You find them charming
In restrained, I’m your unreserved
You’re there with me
Don’t point at the drawing
and tell you where it hurts
Usurped
Because you take my casual
and you bring it into a space
And make that the world
Fingers unfurled
but I want them tight and safe
and performing
Your specific world
With fluorescent underneath
and wispy curls
I relish being me
but not in their earshot
Their world
I love knowing that I’m me underneath
How it should be
Bouncing, floating, footwork
On a pendulum
Your steps work
They make me click in with you
So, when you talk to me
with vultures all around you
The tanks, the iced boxes
not a level playing field
but a herd
I’m OK with that
But then you ask me questions
and I can’t be anything but me
I answer honestly
Drawn into my real world
The universe blown up for me
and by that, I mean in large
I squint to see the framed portraits
and acting ‘proper’ after dark
You ask me and I wish you hadn’t
because I can’t not use my heart
I either get obsessed with your needs
and emotions
Dedicated to trying to fix
In my one day, this last day, in your moment
your fight
But, everyday is that moment for you
and I missed being present
in trying
Not my job to make it alright
And you ask me questions
I open honestly, and you got
in
and now gates open too wide
You touched on topics in my
performance space
The stage show
I’m centred in
Vulnerability of mine
Why can’t I bring it up?
and then never do in earshot
of anyone else
I have to compartmentalise
I can’t give pieces of my truest self
Just go along with life
surrounded
Words created, only for spaces without
them ever
Or without the me, inside
It’s an extension of the me that they see
The digibox, the connector
The sharks swirm
They deny
and I have this mechanism
The always of many spaces
and lifebelts
When you ask me what I love
I’m honest
Once a week, or so,
But can’t be anything else
I’m fizzing over the tea party
and it just can’t
Just can’t, be helped
This is not about me
It’s not supposed to be that place
It’s chinking tea cups, sugar cubes
and the correct words
Tongue in cheek phrases
The glitter and the force field
that grips joy tight when you’re
from that place
She’d never use expletive’s
Except, when there’s passion
when she’s hers
I’m passion
but controlled passion
Their spouts and handles of decorations
A me
Deciding when she, even, wants to be heard
(Heard, listened, you're free)
I say words, you shift them
in pretty presentation
I hate myself for being blinder to the predators
in which you may not believe
This is not my space
It’s my time to give to you
and for your tranquil or excitement
to settle inside your cage
When I admit that I’m a human golden retriever
I became too much of an expert, open page
Closed-off, public desktop
On account of all my rage
We listen to Taylor Swift
The audience nod heads to Never
Getting Back Together
But you hear Would’ve Should’ve
The twisting of words
Leak, of my insides
But only in this place
Same person
I don’t raise it
I choose the place
You can't take my identity
and show it in 'your' time
....
people pleasing
tara star poet
..
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