Most minds, turn in a clockwise motion
Cogs, set in proper movement
And wiring, keeping thoughts in sync

But his mind follows nothing of normal
Time scuttles backwards or side to side
His wheels sputter and kick into gears, not of his choice
Sparks and smoke swell, from faulty wiring

Most eyes, see structure and order
Scents of good and bad, are separated
And touch, utilized just for reference

But his senses deliver new worlds and alters the one around him
Blank stares only see twisted animations
He smells imaginary scents, leaving all to wonder
The touch of one, brings random renditions of another

Some say, they know how he functions
But no one will ever know, nor will he