Tales of Melancholy (Morbid Visions)
Who are you really red storm of Jupiter? You Giant Red Spot sitting there like a godsized freckle on the King of Planets. You ancient immortal eye that sees all of the galaxy. Where did you come from? What is it that you want from us? You are out there in the darkness swirling forever like a vortex. We can always see you there. But do you see us? See us as you see all like a giant eye the size of two Earths sees all. You're in our dreams. Your deep inside our consciousness. You created us didn't you? You or someone else. Maybe the Great Dark Spot on Neptune. Some old mysterious cosmic imprint that is always staring at our development. You are like the wheel of time forever spinning around awaiting for us to reach the level of understanding you. To communicate with the interstellar winds and the waves of radiation in your atmospheres. We cannot imagine ourselves in your space more than we can during the Big Bang. Our minds can only comprehend our only point of view and only the point of view of others like us. We cannot fathom true planetary sizes. Nor can we even come close to a start of calculating the forever brute towering oddity of stars. We can through equations but not through the dimensional paradigm we find ourselves in. I see you when I close my eyes and I know you see me when you close your eye if Jupiter did close its eye.
This fool in my head has a fool it its head. The serpents hibernate in my ear canal. They slither through the wrinkles and grooves. I only need to burst into flames. My body can only float for so long. Then my eyes drift away from everything else and I can only see through my own flesh again that covers it at night and puts my world into darkness. I am left with no choice but to stare at black light through the folds and slips of my skin. I await for my innards to disrupt. I can feel my body as a hollow shell. I can no longer think on my own. It takes over. Sometimes I will find myself straying off the path. No one will tell me what to do.