Blue smoke cigarettes, Art supply store leaves

Start recording synesthesia stuff? Did I spell that right? Mm My fingers are rush rush rushing. Nicotine's got me wild. I'm a free spirit, come play for a while. We can talk about shapes and the way they move around your body. I want to fill a vase with poison and call it a sacrifice. Feed it to the demons inside me watch them curl into smoke screaming like the fire in your living room I am by no means holy. Crack me open, find wires entangled around my secrets. I want to be the poison on your fingertips while you get high off of that shit you call life- tell me one more time what that even is.  

I'm afraid of me more than I am of you.

The tree was blue and so were the mountains (they were a little more purple). The smoke kept changing, it tastes like the colour of clay but it came out blue.

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I’m sure out of context this probably reads as some sort of “drug” journal or the beginnings of a mental breakdown but I promise this is normal for me. For those of you who do not know what synesthesia is, here is a pretty decent explanation:

source: https://faculty.washington.edu/chudler/syne.html

Seeing the world in its colours and my own colours has always been part of my life; So has poetry and prose, hence the random prose-poem (maybe?) in the middle of the above journal. Living in the Adirondacks in the middle of a seasonal transition is incredibly overwhelming (in a very humbling and beautiful way). There are so many colours! As I was walking behind Alpine the other day, there was mist at the top of the mountains that lingered over red, orange, and brown leaves. I was in awe. Looking at all of those colours at once with the mist above them made me suddenly smell the inside of an art supply store my mother and I would spend hours in during my childhood. I was overcome by it. I often think of that smell as home and I think that is due to the fact that we moved so much while living in New York City but we always found our way back to that particular store. In a sense, it was one of the only constants I had during my childhood in the city. It was amazing to see something so beautiful and new to me and then have it accompanied by a smell of something so familiar and comforting.