Harbingers in Purples and Blues

Harbingers in Purples and Blues

Negativity vibrates in dark tones, the colors all in lower ranges, the taste in his chest shades of acrimony and ire.

Vitriol bubbles up and around, circulating through heart and lungs. It’s not only inside of him, it’s in the air, it’s in the moon’s filtered rays, all purity removed.

The odors come in shades of fetid and won’t leave, although they seem to dissipate, blighting the air around him.

He wonders at the source, what components are external, which are internal. They seem permanent, as if they’d always been there, but he somehow still recalls lucid days.

We wonders whether there exists an embolic purge, an alembic creation of some kind, a cousin to a philosopher’s stone that can wipe the mood away, if in fact, it’s just a mood.

More like a curse he thinks, a curse that’s strayed from its roots and become pandemic. A free floating uncast curse blaspheming Hell as well as Heaven.

Like a new born universe, expanding from singularity towards infinity, matter dark in sprit as well as in form.

Negative entropy blues.

© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2017; all rights reserved

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