Why I'm Not Jolly

I drifted for millenia on a wave of rest,
so peaceful and tranquil in both motion and aim,
now riding over stormier oceans of dementia and of pain,
such woe and sorrow amidst my sea of names.

Beyond the eyes of a million ghosts do my dreams lie,
now nightmares born of their warping minds,
so fragile in the heads like clicking glass clockwork,
so silent within the cages of the damned.

And my vessell is bleeding time and is bleeding space,
consuming all it passes and devouring my dreamscape,
a world now nothing but memory to your anonymous hero,
now fleeting image woven in electrical twine.

Now touching shore and stepping on to onyx sand,
my starving ship swallowed by absolute black,
and the demon comes to speak to me of prophecy,
to tell me legend of man and of angel and of Hell.

Crimson ivory and toxic ebony and burning tongue,
his word now fire in my mind,
scorching and destroying the memory of my land,
now nothing but matter and rot.