Your words and my colours

Letters and words like clouds hang above our heads. You verbalize. You have a story to tell. You analyze. You think. You contemplate.I wonder.

I don’t know what to do with the words you throw at me. Your letters roll down on me like summer rain.

Your words are like my anger; a thick wall that penetrates the space between us. I don’t hear you. You don’t feel me.

Everything is conscious, well-thought, rounded and to me unnatural.

I live in a world of colours and shades. I touch them, I smell them, I hear them call me with their little songs. I slide through air of the senses. Words mean nothing to me.

And here I am putting all this into words …

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