Streams of colours and scents
Flow in the crevasses of my mind.
I talk in sensations,
For I experience this world
Like a newborn that’s come to life,
Except my coming has occurred
Over two decades ago.
And so I feel a bit of an alien,
Having to twist and calibrate
What comes out of my mouth,
Lest I be left hanging
On the other side of the wall,
With my thoughts and my words
Unintelligible to most…
I’ve heard someone say
That those like me better be
Careful not to talk their minds,
For they might be thought fools.
I do not care to be a fool.
I’ve got to try relentlessly
To make myself clear,
So that I may at last find
One who’d understand me,
One that is near,
One that is not dead -
One that is real.