The World In Colour

1

I'm thinking in abstract concepts again.

I'm seeing and sensing the colours and flavours and smells of the words, but I can't find them. They won't take form, won't come to my tongue, won't let me share them. But I know, I know what I want to say, I know what I want to tell them.

Grey-maroon-yellow-brown-pink-yellow. Maroon-maroon-pink-green-yellow-orange to me. Stop looking at me like I'm blue-blue-grey-green-grey-maroon-yellow-pink-pink. Like I'm pink-green-yellow-grey-maroon-red. I'm not. I swear, I'm not. I'm orange-blue-green.

My chest feels tight. I need to cough. But I can't, I can't. They'll laugh, they'll sneer. Grey-maroon-yellow-brown-pink-yellow. Don't grey-yellow-grey-green me. I'm not green-blue-purple-pink-maroon-orange-yellow you. I can't grey-yellow-maroon grey it.

Please stop pink-grey-blue-yellow-green-maroon-orange-yellow. You're grey-yellow-grey-green-maroon-orange-yellow my head. You're making too many purple-blue-maroon-blue-yellow-grey-pink and green-yellow-purple-green-yellow-grey-yellow-pink. It's grey-brown-maroon-orange-grey-yellow-maroon.

I'm covering my ears now. My eyes are shut. I know you're looking at me. I know, I know. But it hurts, it hurts so much. Why won't you stop? You know you're hurting me. Why won't you pink-green-blue-grey it and leave me brown-maroon-blue-orange-yellow?

There's a grey-grey-yellow-pink-pink-yellow-grey-yellow on my shoulders, grey-brown-green-maroon-maroon-maroon-brown-grey and purple-blue-green-grey-blue-grey-green-maroon-orange-yellow. One final blue-yellow-maroon-maroon, and then black-yellow-maroon-yellow-green. A purple-yellow-grey is pressed to my lips and blue-brown-green-yellow-grey enters my mouth, grey-grey-yellow-pink-grey and purple-blue-blue-maroon. It's calming me, pink-blue-blue-green-grey-maroon-orange-yellow me, and the words pink-green-brown-grey-green, start, to return.