Brain On Fire.

Engaged in reckless abandon,
self-medicating as I gamble.
I grow more weary as I persist,
as I become more promiscuous.
Am I the victim of KIDNAPPING,
where they took my BRAIN,
as I fought them off with fists?
ANOTHER abductee gone missing—
but they won't break my spirit,
even if they take away my WINGS.
DIAGNOSED in an anti-septic hallway,
though I still remain unconvinced.
I refuse to be an EXPERIMENT;
I am nobody's test subject.
One SATURDAY,
a PATTERN emerged 
that was disturbing; it began 
with DELUSIONS
of grandiosity. 
I may feel spurned now, 
but I'm still learning.
If only this INSOMNIA 
would just let me sleep.

Brittle.

Tough as diamonds, I still stutter.
Even equipped with spirit real resilient.
Titanium temper you can't tamper.
Bullet proof; I am bone brilliant.

No weapon could wage war against me.
You are Hiroshima to my bomb atomic.
Hydrogen gases could never harm me.
Napalm nor nitrous oxide could phase me.

When I fell to this planet, I crash landed.
Rode in careening on a comet.
Like obsidian, I am igneous; volcanic.
Concrete, cinder-block, ceramic.

Jackhammer my stone heart in the street, chances are the road will crack before me.

I survived storms, and tsunamis;
scaled sorrows, climbed calamity.
Rappelled into the fiery pits of Hell,
wrestled with remorse, and reversed spells.

I can't be destroyed now—I refuse it.
My lights may flicker, but they won't finish. 
Any attempts to break me will prove fruitless.
Diamond life of mine can't be cut open.

Paintbox.

Blood of my blood that runs scarlet red, rivers that rage through my DNA, these parts of me they can't be changed, they make me a sinner and also a saint. 

Forest fires devoid of rain nearly burnt my body to a crisp, orange were the embers that remained, as I maneuver through life's malevolent marigold maze. 

Yellow bellied and afraid to admit I was different from the rest, still, society and its rules sought to suppress my truth, now, as I seethe under the saffron sun while she sets, life gave me lemons so I shaped them into bullets 

I embarked on my adventure to fulfill Emerald City dreams, once I evicted my ego, I was no longer envious or grisly green, as I adopt the lotus position for deep reflection, nothing could feel quite as successful as I do whilst meditating.

Awash in the blues, I was drowning in my own sorrows, sinking in streams of sapphire sadness, these were the lessons that led to greatness.

Insecurities that were once unappealing, ignited, erupting into indigo intuition. My experiences could fill entire oceans, now that I emerged victorious over my emotions.

Violet violence is now just a faded vision, through my introspection I have been vindicated, fields of lavender and lilac fill my garden now that I have learned to love the man I always hated.

Synesthetic Symphony.

Burgundy bells blared brittle, like bread;
savoury silk suddenly singed my silent skin.
Chocolate chimes chased charcoal chalk,
talking toasters tingled tangled trucks.

A hissing whistle wilted hitters, 
tittering critters tinted cisterns.
Blisters erupted belittled erasers;
cauldrons bubbled creation's blazer.

A shock of sterile antiseptic.
Christmas tastes light blue like plastic.
Sometimes seasons sound unfamiliar,
and stranger than a static splinter. 

Sirens arouse sentiments unpleasant,
sharp like spies and estranged sisters.
That's when I just grin and bear it—
colourblind is chaos in its brilliance.