Purple

Purple

I smell no Jasmines, Daisies or Geraniums this Summer

Nor my soul desires the nectar of an ancient amphora

Crimson riddles my skin

My mind is an Amethyst.

An Amaranth a fixed star; an amulet

To which my neurons  ebb and flow.

Purple radiates in shades

Violet Veins. My palpitations are magenta.

My heart is a deeper shade of purple. This summer.

Like a wound under a microscope.

 I long to plot the anelemma of my thoughts

Protons in blue and electrons in amber.

Yet purple dominates my neurons like a clumsily drawn  tube map.

In my mind, a soft ray of violet makes a lemniscate

Other colours, smells and senses, an oblivion await.