Gas Planet Brain

My breath is blood.

My blood is air.

There’s a busy frantic dying thing shackled to the inside surface of my skull,

Trying to grow webs of connections to replace the brain

That it just realized was nothing but a giant gas planet,

Not a rock,

Not a stable thing,

Not an anchor.

Jupiter’s breath is blood too,

A bloody sea three times the size of this whole planet and I think

Jupiter is a terrible brain to have.

To not have.