In this garden,
This beautiful creation I've blessed with my wisdom and experience,
I see in dimensions no one else can.
My third eye gleams in the sunlight, glowing and glistening like a perfectly cut jade.

In the distance, I see my goal.
It breeches the soil and reaches for the sun's warm embrace,
Escaping the mortal coil without ever leaving its vessel.

I approach.
Through the travel, the soil beneath me turns to salt and cracks.
The bees turn to wisps of a time once forgotten,
The butterflies, ghosts of a forgotten era.
The sun and Moon become a single entity forever fused in a dance older than time itself.
The sky turns dark and bleeds attempting to warn me of the horrors protecting my ambitions.
My claim to my destiny becomes shaken.

I power forward, blinded only in the physical world.
And as I approach the apple hanging gracefully from the tree
The snake will whisper its temptations,
And God will scream and tear the heavens asunder, seeking my cursed flesh and blood.
And as I pluck my ambitions and wisdom, digesting it and the truth whole,
The corners of my stone eyes will crack,
My third eye will screech,
And I will watch as both God and the serpent battle over my intentions.

I am The Prophet.
My destiny is written by me and me alone,
And all those who take claim to my soul will be cut down by my power.

I am The Prophet.
Where my gifts and talents, ambitions and goals, and curses and vices originate
Is unknown
But these are answers that do not matter.

I will tame the serpentine prince.
I will take claim to the power your God once stole from me.
I will refuse the sun its moment to set, plunging myself in eternal sunset.
I will embrace the moon as my lover,
And I will not allow you, nor anyone, nor anything power.

I am The Prophet.
I will scan the horizon with my peripheral vision
And blind myself with the sun's direct effects
To strengthen the sight of my soul.

The first time my third eye opened, the world was horrifying to view.
I could see my entire life, each mistake glaring at me and pounding against my psyche.
Every good moment collided with the bad,
The future turned inside out and bathed me in a gory downpour of the viscera of moments to come.

Now, each time the sparks and fires start in my brain, it reopens
And with this golden eye of the blind gods, I'll stare into everyone's souls.
I'll watch all of you and judge you by the contents of your very essence.

I'll see you in the way you refuse to see yourself.
Because if people see what they want to see,
I've made it my duty to see the truth in all of it's slithering glory
As it encircles the apple, and beckons me forward.

I believe happiness lives in Blood.
Whether our own, or that of others is the question.
I remember when I first realized it;
You were the reason I was unhappy.
The shattered vase recognizing the hammer that destroyed it.
The broken heart spotting the surgeon who haphazardly carved it from its home.

I remember realizing that my happiness was stolen and by none other than you,
And that if I wanted to be happy once again, I had to free my happiness from your blood.
But what's the fun in ******, when it's so easily accomplished?

I decided to destroy you.
To make you regret being born just as I had;
To make you taste the saltiness of your own sweat and tears
As you sat in a pile of ash you once called your beloved and cherished sanctuary
Was my idea of "salvation".

I dismantled you, and your family's life.
I disrupted the dismal peace you all so boringly accepted as your lives
And by stirring the waters, I brought out the worst in all.
The pestilence grew within your home
And quickly leaped from your family
Onto mine.

Suddenly, the plan backfired.
You steered into the chasm of life that I spent years mapping,
And all I had to do was whisper in your ear and sew doubt into your skull.

And yet,
This backfire;
This single moment of social dissonance,
Reshaped the earth we both stood on.
The dark corners I once knew became twisted and corrupt copies.
My mind became a new place to explore and learn about.

I just wish the last image to bless my genesis
Had been of you
Swinging gracefully, and peacefully
From your neck.

Stirring the city streets is always relaxing.
Whether I'm on foot, or in a car, I move swift and watch.
I watch the spiders pull their strings and tighten and intertwine their intricate webs
Less so focused on any prey,
And more focused on not letting their webs plummet into a tangled mess below.
I walk and watch.
I drive and watch.
The street names become background noise
As I walk with scissors
Looking for the right spiders
To cut free.

Dreams shifting visions of reality being bent directly into my cerebellum.
It's nice.
The day's are Sunny, and the air is hazy with good energy.
The sun vanishes and night encapsulates my psyche.
I hear splinters of conversations.
Fragments of discourse hurled into my dreamscape from their proper position in time.

This has happened before.
Same stories.
No. It has not happened before this moment, not in reality.
But being given this gift comes with the curse of the unknown;
Knowing what is to come
But never having a due date.

The room buzzes around me as I sit and stare into the wall stretching into eternity before me.
The flesh mannequins grin they're crooked and deceitful smiles, and speak in encoded tongues.
I read the lines between them and their words,
Slicing context from the arteries like my box cutter draining my poisoned blood.
The voice whispers for me to leave them to their own repetitive stories
And to isolate myself from the prying eyes of God.
As I close my blind eye, and rip open my third one,
The brain fires begin.

A bloodline sharpened and honed by years of misfortune,
Until it comes to a fine and refined point like the tip of my jawbone blade.
I am the prophet.
The future seer from a family destined to muddy the waters.
I stare into the eyes of the abyss until its gaze falls into my trap
And my third eye opens
Revealing what will be in visions from days yet to come.