Like verbal synesthesia,
in my head.
bang bang bang
and all I think are flashes.
Computer fans are white noise
and clicking keys a melody.
I sleep on piles of books
and tell myself bedtime stories
that never, ever end.
It's the same one, every night.
I edit, even in my head.
One color brings four hundred synonyms to mind
and the feeling of fabric is like a burst of light.
Looking at a photograph is often over whelming,
and all I want to do is know what
they were thinking,
not what I am.
It's a curse and a blessing,
on a wing and a prayer,
and a hundred other cliches
that will never go away.
Here's to the over active imagination
that won't stop finding the meaning in everything.