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Writer's pictureDanielle Pryor

A Letter From Purgatory



Dear You,

I’m telling you this for your own good.

Because I love you, please never forget what it feels like to spiral out of control;

to lose the firm grip you once had on your soul.

Never forget the chilling heat of the devils breathe on the back of your neck

as he began to pull you under into Purgatory.

Don’t lose touch with the numbness you felt in the hollow pit of your chest and

how it could only be filled

by that metallic stench

when you would slice your flesh.

I know this has passed,

but I’ll tell you once more because

I see you

sinking

again,

and before you realize,

You’ll be drowning in a pool of your own blood.

Never forget what you just said; remember this feeling.

I’m spiraling

I’m spinning

I’m losing hold of my mind.

The fucks I used to give have been swallowed

by the tornado forming on the

soles of my feet,

waiting to suck the rest of me in.

There’s no where to go when

the speed controls my toes.

So I

Smoke weed

Snort coke

Pop addies

Shoot and toke.

There’s a happiness found at rock bottom.

Your soul can exist is the rawness of its essence,

the griminess of its reality,

and the eternity of your damned spirit.

Succumb to the will of the tornado

on the soles of your feet.

Allow the flames of hell to lick your cheeks, and

welcome the warmth of the

Demonic Embrace.

But let me warn you…

on your way down

at the eye of the storm

a Siren will be waiting

to pierce your gaze with her eyes

of liquid sapphire

and reel your heart into her cave

with whispers of sweet

nothings.

Stop.

Now.

Here.

Allow yourself to collapse

onto her bed, and cleanse

your soul in her smooth flesh

and gentle lips.

If it is here that your soul is at peace,

you may stay.

However, Your hair will singe and crumble

away and the paleness of your skin

will fade to crimson gold.

You’ll appear different to the world

from which you came-

like a creature that emerged

from the depths of the Earth,

Naked and hairless,

and the color of the sun

on its brightest days.

But, your soul will be freed from the cage

behind your ribs,

your eyes will melt to liquid sapphire,

and your flesh will never be without

the lingering kisses of the

Siren on the cliff.

If you can’t enjoy the

burning and bubbling of your skin

as it melts under her heat,

then you may go.

Run through the flames and

passed the ponds of flaming souls,

do not falter at the vodka fountain

or be teased by cocaine trails.

Run until your toes fall off

one by one,

run until the tornado you’ve created

cannot pull you down any further

and is sucked away by the Earth beneath

the soles of your feet.

Now climb.

Climb out of the rock bottom you’ve fallen into.

Whisper goodbyes to the

cocaine and vodka as they watch you go;

to the cigarettes and weed,

the adderall and razor blades,

and tell your Siren you’ll see her later

because you know that you’ll be back

in her bed before you get too far away.

She’ll be waiting for you

at the end of your great escape.

Once you go, I hope that your soul

is at peace.

However,

it will remain trapped

behind the cage of your ribs,

your eyes will be solid and grey,

and your flesh will be longing

for the gentle kisses

lost in its memory.

But, your hair will grow long and thick,

your porcelain skin will remain

without imperfections,

and you will appear the same

to the world from which you came.

You will become background noise

in this game

that is our reality.

My love,

take passion in your vices,

but do not allow them to define you.

Fixate your mind on simple

immediate pleasures and enjoy

every minute of your time trekking

through the bottom of your soul.

Once you’ve left,

don’t miss it for long.

Before you catch your breathe

a tornado will form again on the

soles of your feet and

suck you down once more.

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