Inside myself

If you see me throwing shapes,
I'm not being a diva.
I probably just have disco fever
in a world where my mind escapes.

I inadvertently entertain,
whether in shops or on the train.
I nod my head but I'm unaware,
lost in a pool of soundscapes.

My fingers tap on the escalator,
I'm a throbbing synthesizer,
but none the wiser when people stare
at my unique rhythmic metadata.

You might see me rapidly blink
when my brain overspins and overthinks.
Nothing sticks at this point in time
but I might remember later.

My narrator says I need a break.
It's half-time and I'm half-awake.
But I'm still a human syntax error
and still in deep-thought overdrive.

Please don't fear, I'm comfortable here,
and the disco is about to disappear.
Imagination is my invigoration,
so just be patient, I'll be back in five.