Ode to Asperger's (Revision 2)

[Leanne]

Revision 1
The world's too close, and never safe, or plain. -- one semi-colon here would do a better job than the two commas to smooth out your first line, with a small change -- "the world's too close; it's never safe or plain."  Over-caesura-ing the first line can destabilise a poem (why yes, of course that's a word!)
I want to tell you what it's like out there -- -- no need for a dash here if you use a colon in the next line instead.  
beyond my door--- it's chaos and old pain.
I want to drive somewhere, so I endure
the shrieking metal door of my garage;
then tense as seat-belt webbing scrapes my neck. -- you might try "I tense" and then "and breathe in deep" on the next line (without a full stop on this one)
I breathe in deep, but nothing can assuage -- my accent makes this a very awkward rhyme but you must write for how you say it yourself, of course
the itch; already I'm a fraying wreck. -- stress-wise, this is just the tiniest bit off.  Stresses are fixed by "the itch; I have become a fraying wreck", but I don't like how prosaic that sounds so I'm just putting it in as an example, not a suggestion.  

I note each floor-strewn leaf and piece of trash,  -- the leaves are not strewn by the floor, so this is odd to me
and still I haven't put the car in gear;
assaulted by a rattle in the dash,
a squeak somewhere that I can barely hear.
Behind the wheel, I catalogue the smells:  -- these lines are excellent, both meter- and content-wise
exhaust;  the dog;  a spilled essential oil;
damp wool;  deodorant.  My nose rebels
against the random mix, and I recoil.

The water-spots on rear-view mirror glass -- with "the" at the start of the line, it seems odd to miss it out before "rear-view mirror" -- it's not a big deal but it does detract slightly for me, even if I can't think of an immediate fix -- unless you start the line with a one-syllable adjective for water-spots instead of the article
make ornamental patterns on the scene -- "the scene" is vague -- this whole line seems a bit of a filler to fit the rhymes in
as I back out the drive. Before I pass,
a dozen things insist on being seen:
a crushed McDonald's cup; a ziploc bag;
a plastic GI Joe; a toddler's sock;
a trail of antifreeze; a greasy rag;
the lug nut from a wheel; a broken lock. 

Before I've gone a mile, a hundred more:
(not only what I see, but what I hear)
the roar of inbound jets that shake my core,
the blasting hiss of brakes beside my ear.
I'm just ten minutes on the way – time flies -- this little throwaway aphorism seems out of place
as dread accumulates a tidal wave
built of impending hands and mouths and eyes
of people I don't know. I must be brave.

My self-reliance dictates policy,
(it always does, regardless of my past)
and so I carry on, intrepidly –
but even so, the effort's just half-assed.
My heart's not in it, so, as I arrive
I sidle in, avoiding every gaze,
and furtive, ducking through the crowd, I strive
to vanish lamely in the social maze. -- I feel that this stanza is more tell-y than show-y -- I'd have loved a couple of concrete images 


I've never proved that I have what it takes;
I never can remember things I said.
I  leave about the time my spirit breaks;
I always end up wishing I were dead. -- although this ending seems melodramatic, it rings of truth.