A Billion Burning Dreams

between 1932 and 1989. I obsess, I know… but there are patterns everywhere. Let me describe to you the streets of London, even though I’ve never been there. Don’t be scared; I’m not! I don’t talk much because my brain can’t stop to think. I promise you, I’m in here, kept warm by the stimming I’m swaddled beneath.

My mind is hyperaware of the world. That is the gift that I have been given: To over-perceive the subtle vibrancies that permeate this existence. That blue is not the only blue. Numbers have feelings too. I know I can’t control this world of mine, but neither can any of you.

Because I was born a broken Tinkertoy, but no physician could force my pieces to fit. The way the light dances off of my Grand Canyons could never be muted by medicine. You can’t cure me of me . My perfection does not exist on a spectrum. You don’t know the comfort of a repetitive movement! My light is always bright. Whole worlds exist between my gyri and sulci. If you’re wondering where I am, I’m playing there. I’m flying.

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