Is the style of the following piece legible and understandable? Would you consider this style "purple prose"?

I posted some stories I wrote and am working on in other subs, and I was told the style I write in is unreadable. Would you mind taking a look and giving me some feed back? <br><br>Here's a short piece:<br><br>The girl slipped through the crowds, her feet unencumbered by the constraints of the stiletto heels she had slipped off the moment she stepped into the stultifying heat of the summer night. The cooling rain had finally subsided, the storm clouds clearing away to reveal the vast expanse of the night sky. The lights from the windows of the houses up in the hills cast a kaleidoscope of colors against the dark velvet of the evening, and the stars were beginning to make themselves known, tiny pinpricks of light in the serene, unyielding blackness that seemed to stretch on forever. <br><br>She couldn't stand this place. She couldn't stand the crowds and the clatter, the unending din that seemed to pummel her from all sides, threatening to crush her with its sheer intensity. The party was at a club, a violent thrash of light and color that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building itself, the music so loud that it seemed to make the air writhe and twist like a tortured cat. The unending sea of sweating, writhing bodies had threatened to overwhelm her, sent her gasping out to the violent storms of the night, where the cooling rain stung her eyes and the powerful gusts of wind whipped her hair into a frenzy of striking gold.<br><br>The city was not a place for the timid. Composed of dark, twisted shadows and blinding flashes of light, of pulsing rhythms and intoxicating stench, the streets seemed to writhe and twist, alive with a violent, savage energy that was nowhere to be found in the belly of the suburban towns that lay quietly sleeping in the dark. The city was the Compiègne forest, dark, twisted, and dangerous. It was a place to lose yourself, to twist and writhe in the shadows, to surrender to the violent, primal lusts that seemed to writhe and twist in the darkness. <br><br>And she had never loved it more. She reveled in its darkness, basked in its twisted depravity. She was a creature of the night, a succubus who lived for little more than the intoxicating stench of the city's flesh. The intoxicating pungency of the garbage, the reeking stench of the alleyways, the heavy scent of the garbage stinking through the streets like a perfume. She reveled in it, basked in it, slipped through the shadows with a silent ease, as serene and unyielding as the night sky itself. <br><br>And when she moved, it was with the sinister, aggressive striking power of a snake. <br><br>She could sense the man behind her, watching her, his eyes on her like a hand. He had followed her out of the club, a striking, savage figure that seemed to radiate unyielding strength and power. She could sense his tension, his twisted rage and savage desire, as he hovered behind her, his hands clenched into fists. He was a dangerous figure, a brutal, savage man with a violent, twisted lust that seemed to writhe and twist in his dark, shadowed eyes. <br><br>And she seemed to revel in it. She moved with a slow, sensual elegance, the sinuous curve of her hips and shoulders twisting with every movement, as if she were a snake shedding its skin. Her feet were bare, her toes curled over the edge of the pavement as she moved unerringly over the dark, twisted streets. The buildings seemed to loom over her, the houses up in the hills towering over her like giants, their windows burning with a sinister, golden light. <br><br>And she seemed to bask in it. She reveled in the unending darkness, the twisted, savage stench of the garbage, as if she were a creature of the night itself. The city seemed to radiate an unending, twisted power, as if it were a giant, twisted insect that threatened to crush her at any moment. And she seemed to revel in it, to bask in its twisted, savage depravity, to twist and writhe in its dark, twisted shadows. <br><br>And when he slipped out of the darkness, the knife glinting in his hand like a strike of lightening, she did not seem to be surprised. She turned, her eyes flashing like diamonds in the dark, and smiled, a slow, sensual curve of her lips that seemed to twist and writhe like a living thing itself. <br><br>"I knew you would follow," she said, her voice husky and low, as smooth as silk. <br><br>"Did you come out here for me?" he growled, the sound low and menacing, the knife glinting in his hand like a flash of lightening. <br><br>"I came out here for myself," she said, her eyes flashing with a slow, sensual light. "But I waited for you." <br><br>And with that, she turned and slipped away into the darkness, leaving him to follow, the knife still glinting in his hand. <br><br>[EDIT] I have to go eat dinner, so I will respond to comments when I am done :)