Eye contact. Inside voice. Read the room. Fix your face. Wrong tone. Too much. Too strange. Too fucking late. Your request has been reviewed— and disregarded. Every light is drilling through my retinas Every mouth is broadcasting in tongues You buried meaning underneath your etiquette Then blamed me when I couldn’t dig it up Shake the right hand, wear the right expression Laugh on cue and calculate the pause Every conversation is an interrogation Where nobody will tell me what the fucking rules are I learned your script I learned your grin I learned to fold my nervous system in You call that growth I call it skin Stretched over everything I’ve ever fucking been Mask on Chin up Don’t twitch Don’t stim Talk less Smile more Let everybody in Mask on Play nice Make them comfortable Carve off every part of you They find unacceptable YOU CALL IT SPECIAL TREATMENT I CALL IT FUCKING OXYGEN YOU CALL ME LAZY WHILE A HUNDRED THOUGHTS ARE CLAWING THROUGH MY HEAD I’M NOT DEFECTIVE I’M EXHAUSTED FROM TRANSLATING EVERY SECOND, EVERY SIGNAL FOR A WORLD THAT WON’T TRANSLATE ME ACCOMMODATE THIS ACCOMMODATE THIS I’VE BENT UNTIL THE BONES SPLIT NOW ACCOMMODATE THIS Too loud—too bright—too close—too many Too loud—too bright— Where is that music coming from? Too loud—too bright—too close—too many There’s no fucking music playing So where is it coming from? Supervisor says my tone lacks proper decorum Coworkers trade their little looks across the room I ask for what I need; they hold a fucking forum To judge if I deserve enough support to make it through Then when I get it, suddenly it’s favoritism A ramp is not a throne, you self-important prick You started halfway up and called it competition Then cried when I requested something level to exist Not lazy—overloaded Not careless—fucking flooded I’m doing twelve equations While you’re speaking one corrupted Your subtext has subtext Your meaning hides from meaning You call my silence empty While my skull won’t stop screaming I have swallowed every answer Till my gums were split and raw Bit my tongue down to the tendon Just to satisfy your law Now there’s a slaughterhouse behind my eyes Where every social fiction bleeds This never leaves the walls of my skull— BUT IN HERE IT HAS FUCKING TEETH IN MY HEAD— I HOOK YOUR ETIQUETTE BENEATH THE JAW AND PULL UNTIL THE HINGES POP TEETH RAIN DOWN ON THE CONFERENCE TABLE LIKE WHITE GLASS SHARDS IN A COFFEE CUP I SHOVE YOUR SCRIPT THROUGH THE ROOF OF ITS MOUTH TILL EVERY PAGE COMES OUT THE THROAT THEN STAPLE THAT CORPORATE FUCKING SMILE TO THE GAPING HOLE WHERE THE FACE USED TO GO PEEL THE MASK FROM THE MEAT SKIN COMES OFF IN RIBBONS TENDONS SNAP LIKE WIRES I BRAID THE INTESTINES THROUGH THE LIGHTS AND SET THE FUCKING CEILING ON FIRE I CRACK THE RIBCAGE OPEN MAKE A FILING CABINET OF THE CHEST STUFF EVERY DENIED ACCOMMODATION BETWEEN THE LUNGS THAT YOU COMPRESSED PULL THE SPINE OUT THROUGH THE THROAT ONE VERTEBRA AT A TIME PLUG IT INTO THE OFFICE WALL AND WATCH YOUR PERFECT SYSTEM DIE THIS ISN’T BLOOD ON MY HANDS IT’S A MOVIE IN MY HEAD A PRIVATE FUCKING ABATTOIR WHERE YOUR NORMAL ENDS UP DEAD NO BODIES—JUST THE PRESSURE GIVEN MUSCLE, BONE AND BREATH NO VICTIMS—JUST A FANTASY DISSECTING WHAT YOU MADE ME SUPPRESS YOU WANTED FUCKING NORMAL? I FED IT FEET-FIRST THROUGH THE SHREDDER NOW READ THE RED CONFETTI AND TELL ME I SHOULD COMMUNICATE BETTER Lazy Difficult Sensitive Unprofessional Attention-seeking Inappropriate High-functioning So capable So capable So capable— If I’m so capable Why does surviving you Consume everything? YOU CALL IT SPECIAL TREATMENT I CALL IT FUCKING OXYGEN YOU CALL ME LAZY WHILE A HUNDRED THOUGHTS ARE CLAWING THROUGH MY HEAD I’M NOT DEFECTIVE I’M EXHAUSTED FROM TRANSLATING EVERY SECOND, EVERY SIGNAL FOR A WORLD THAT WON’T TRANSLATE ME I AM NOT YOUR FAILED IMPRESSION I AM NOT A BROKEN YOU I WILL NOT BLEED MYSELF TO NORMAL JUST TO MAKE THIS EASY FOR YOU I WON’T CUT MYSELF TO FIT YOUR FUCKING MEASUREMENT I’VE SHAVED MY BONES I’VE SEWN MY LIPS I’VE FORCED MY JOINTS UNTIL THEY SPLIT I’VE WORN YOUR FACE UNTIL IT FUSED NOW I CARVE IT FROM MY SKULL AND GIVE THE FUCKING MASK BACK TO YOU THE SCRIPT IS SHREDDED THE MOUTH IS FED THE PLAYING FIELD IS PAINTED RED ACCOMMODATE FUCKING THIS There are still a hundred thoughts in here. And I still don’t know where the music is coming from. There are still a hundred thoughts in here. And I still don’t know where the music is coming from. ACCOMMODATE THIS
