There are no images here.
I have stripped the walls
so that I sit in the dull
pearled opacity of clouds.
I burned my memories –
brief flaring bursts
of rainbow chemicals.
Even the ash has gone,
drifted out on
breezeless air. It isn’t
midnight – there are no stars –
or morning, or any time
I recognise. I am
un-anchored,
anchorite contained by
emptiness, walls built
from the vacuum. I am
an empty pixel on
an empty screen.
For the garden over at Toads. We are invited to use imagery, to pile it on, for Fireblossom Friday.
Sarah writes poems 
What a wonderful description of emptiness… when even the ash has gone.
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There is something compelling to me about that anchorite’s cell–an extreme version of our isolation from each other, our attempt to dive deeper than the shallow ocean of ourselves, a symbol you’ve used exceptionally well here, describing a feeling that is both mystic and human, a scouring of the soul…excellent use of imagery throughout, and fine writing as well.
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Also, the sense of being exhausted by life…of reaching a place where none of the usual rules apply…meant to put that in above, but it’s very early here, and half a cup of coffee has not quite got me fully operational.
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Thank you – amazing to be read so carefully by someone still in the morning fuzz.
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The rainbow chemical burn was terrific, but “I am un-anchored, anchorite” is truly special. This is one of my favorites of yours.
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Thank you. It seems to have worked.
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And yet nothing is still something. Even saying, “I’m not here, I have erased myself” is still an affirmative action taken.
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Incredible description of emptiness!
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For me, this is the end of digital disruption — a grey indeterminacy. Poetry’s antimatter.
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When the last bit of coal has burned to ash and blown away by the wind…wonderful description of emptiness, of ennui.
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Thank you. Sometimes when a prompt floors me I deliberately head off n the opposite direction, and somehow find my way back to the starting point.
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The images here describe the numbness of depression quite well. Depression isn’t so much the blues of sadness, but the leaching and emptying of all the familiar colors until you are whittled down to a void where color and purpose don’t exist. Really well done.
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Those rainbow(y) bursts stay in the mind, so clear, so lasting…
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