Purgatory by Serpent Succubus
The eyes speak - imbalance.
Like the caustic tears of the serpent venom; flowing, blackened with rot.
Stuck in between today and tomorrow; eternity.
Like maggots - the decay of death; her stench, flowing through the River Styx - into nothing.
We stay hidden in the shallow lake; fog emerges from the black, and wraps us with the loving kiss of death.
Purgatory is a man's best friend.
A one man artist on a journey to create a soundscape heard only in the wind.