Synesthetes

A/N: I wanted to write a Synesthete suffering from a seizure while listening to Oingo Boingo. More? Maybe when I hit another thing of inspiration. :|

Insanity is dripping out of the speakers, and he's stuck in some sort of seventies acid trip, Danny Elfman grinning like an imp while he's all dolled up like the one time he played the devil in St.James infirmary, except this time he's not stuck in black & white. He feels like he just swallowed a rainbow and it ripped through guts and numbed the back of his brain. Delicately, delightfully swallowed up the blues that spun out from the tuba. The red burst from the vocal harmony, burning fingertips. Crescendo, break, percussion. When his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he was looking back at himself, everything faded to black and he wanted to take a bow, but he couldn’t move. They were shouting for an encore, but he was frozen. His arm bent at the elbow, rigid and flapping like the flipper of a Thalidomide baby.