Monday, April 14, 2014

Adaptive Synesthesia

April 15th challenge

What's that noise I see, come creeping 'neath the door?
It's looking mighty furtive and nothing like discrete.

It has the smell of softness and the taste of cymbal clangs!
(I wish I hadn't dropped that window pane.)

I hear it's hue of bilious green and struggle with my gorge,
a battle which I fear I've lost in technicolor streams

which make a tasty rainbow wrapping me in swaddling chains,
which feel the color purple and sound salty more than sweet.

This verse of synesthesia has gone on for quite a while.
I feel it stinks and hope your patience is enough
to let me extricate my foot from out my mouth.
That sounds a bit tasteless. I assure you, that it's snot.

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