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.