Everything has a color.

Everything has a color

And a weight

And a feeling.

Of course, those are just the words I use.

Most of the time,

The colors aren’t actually colors.

The weights aren’t actually weights.

The feelings aren’t actually feelings.

But that’s the way I make sense of it,

The way I create words when there are none.

Songs are blue and black and pink,

Swirls merging and dividing.

A good day makes me weightless,

Clouds supporting my weight.

Anxiety pulls me in different directions,

Hooks under my skin.

Nothing makes sense.

There are too many things,

Too many feelings,

Too many experiences

To possibly describe them.

Everything mixes and merges,

Blurring into new ideas.

My world is an abstract collection of memories,

So I have to have an abstract way of understanding.

Emotions have physical feelings.

Experiences have weights.

Ideas and things have colors.

Everything has a color.