battlefield
a poem about day to day life with audio-color synesthesia
cubist-era machine guns of cobalt blues bombard my ears with clicking as my feet shuffle into the room with a sherbet shade of orange.
focus.
students of all shapes and colors reside in painfully similar plastic chairs, hands flying over sheets of keys and neoprene.
focus.
some sit quietly. some sing of whispered sunshine and violets. some snark away in olive drab.
focus.
i find my place between a girl who speaks in exquisite fretworks of crimson and a boy who yammers and gabs in iterations of lime.
FOCUS.
placing my hands along a bridgade of rainbow graphemes, i begin to barrel away, aiming my focus along a steady flow of self-expression.
the crusade of color subsides.
About the Creator
the startist
hello! elise here. i am a scientist and an artist with a hyperactive mind that loves to come up with too many ideas to bring to fruition. through poetry, i channel that energy and i challenge my perfectionistic tendencies by posting here.
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