Purgatory

In a world I birthed at the back of my brain

where it is neither night nor day

beginnings and endings blend into a

perpetual purgatory under a purple sky

devoid of stars on which to waste wishes

Birds soaring in circles above sing no songs

Corpses pull themselves along sidewalks

strewn with wilted funeral flowers digging 

their bony digits into the cracked concrete 

as their flesh desiccates in the acrid air

revenants of dead discarded dreams who

were once my dearest friends dissolve

into dust whisked away by the wind

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

A perpetual purgatory under a purple sky

Great alliteration here. Dark place to be though, when the stars are absent, the birds without song, the flowers and people are dead. You convey a feeling of deep depression here. Thank you fir posting.

Chris

[AJ Douglas]

Thanks. Emotions and fears can be difficult things to relate to others. Sometimes "translating" them into something people can visualize makes it easier for them to understand.

[Chris Shaw]

I agree. Was pleased to have stopped by today. All the best.

[emmajoygreen]

As I read your intense poem, I thought of Poe and others who near craved the horrors of hell and/or purgatory yet created superb and very visual masterpieces.. as you might well be doing with your own descriptions and surfacing emotions. This is writing that will not be quickly forgotten, A.J. Doughlas..

[AJ Douglas]

Thank you. Poe is one of my favorite poets and writers.

[emmajoygreen]

Am right for a change! Your writing is concise but immensely linguistically visual In other words, unlike this blatherer, you use words/phrases wisely!