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.
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.