MUSIC BUILT FROM REAL LIFE
Original words, Northern grit and sixty second previews before you choose where to listen.
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I’ve got autism, ADHD,
so basically fuck knows which version you’ll see.
One likes routine, one kicks in the door,
one wants peace, one’s ordered three things more.
I walk in a room, then forget why I came,
stand there buffering, questioning my name.
Go back downstairs, remember halfway,
then spot something shiny and lose the whole day.
My keys have legs, my phone disappears,
I’ve found it in places that raise genuine fears.
Fridge, bathroom, hoodie, under the bed,
while using the torch on the phone in my hand instead.
I make little lists so I don’t lose track,
then lose the fucking list and never look back.
Set seven alarms, ignore every sound,
then wake up offended that morning came round.
That’s my brain, mate, welcome aboard,
half organised genius, half extension cord.
I’m five steps ahead, then three streets wrong,
but somehow I’ve blagged it my whole life long.
I’m early for things that don’t matter at all,
late for the one where they actually call.
I can plan six months in a colour coded sheet,
then forget I’ve got washing sat wet for a week.
I reply to your message inside of my head,
full conversation, job done, enough said.
Three days later you’re thinking I’m rude,
I’m shocked when I see it still marked unread, dude.
Social battery full, I’m king of the room,
twenty minutes later I’m planning my tomb.
Not in a dark way, I just want my bed,
and silence, a brew, no humans instead.
I’ll cancel a plan then feel sad I’m alone,
ignore every call then keep checking my phone.
Want people around, but not actually near,
just available somewhere, preferably not here.
I’ll hyperfocus hard till the world disappears,
learn twelve years of knowledge in seventeen beers.
Okay, maybe not beers, but you know what I mean,
I’m suddenly qualified in some random machine.
Then one tiny job that should take half an hour,
becomes Mount Everest with admin power.
I’ll stare at the email, emotionally done,
then clean out a drawer because apparently that’s fun.
That’s my brain, mate, welcome aboard,
half organised genius, half extension cord.
I can fix your life with advice on demand,
then lose my bank card while it’s there in my hand.
I’m either all in or completely checked out,
there’s rarely a sensible middle about.
I’m calm on the outside, quite normal to view,
inside there’s a meeting and nobody’s got a clue.
Food is another ridiculous game,
same meal for weeks, then I hate it by name.
Buy loads because “this is my thing now, mate,”
two days later it’s dying beside the use by date.
Clothes have rules that nobody can see,
that sock feels wrong so it’s dead to me.
Labels are evil, seams are a crime,
and if my sleeve twists I’ll mention it seventeen times.
I hear every noise that exists in the land,
the clock, the fridge, someone breathing near my hand.
But ask what you said while I looked at your face,
not a fucking clue, mate, I left mental space.
And don’t move my stuff, I know where it is,
under that pile beside the other pile, cheers.
It looks like chaos to everyone else,
but move one receipt and I’m calling for help.
I’ve got hobbies I started with fire in my eyes,
boxes of evidence, abandoned supplies.
Gym kit, notebooks, cables and gear,
“New me starts Monday” about twelve times a year.
I research a purchase for twenty straight nights,
compare every review till my eyeballs see lights.
Then impulse buy something completely off track,
and spend next Tuesday wondering how to send it back.
That’s my brain, mate, fast, weird and loud,
sometimes I’m hiding, sometimes too proud.
Sometimes I’m funny because if I don’t laugh,
I’ll spend four whole hours reorganising the bath.
But loads of us do it, diagnosis or not,
walk into kitchens and forget the plot.
Lose track of the day, miss calls, overthink,
open the fridge then just stare at the drink.
Life’s basically chaos with bills on the side,
everyone’s winging it, some just disguise.
I’m AuDHD, so mine’s turned up to ten,
I’ll finish this poem when I remember when.
Hang on.
What was I doing again?