Social Synesthesia Poem by Daniel Peter Jones

I see colours in the transparency of pale,
A yellow wind blowing to the melody of its gale,

A tinted crimson tone, in the words of the man
who sits alone;
Who dreams of the white of death but sees black
When he's shown,

Rippling orange tides of young lovers, who think
It will never fade,
Until captured by the ‘jealousy' and its
Burning eyes of jade,

Strangers suffocate in seas of Green, bustling
Wandering through metros, trams and trains
Vessels upon the jealousy sea, following stars
Not of the sky, but of TV.

But not me;

I breathe in polka dots of blue
Whilst walking along forest grounds into
The Harmonic purple hew of natures underground

Splashes of grey, purple and dark from the clouds
As it rains, colouring the land with its transparent
Sounds,

Its melody that colours the lines
between the dots of where they land.

I see colours in the transparency of pale.