130 Proof strawberry tinted mason jar.
Strawberries swirl as they flow from the crystal glass.
Burns as it goes down the tunnel.
Catching and igniting these Molotov cocktails of bottled feelings.
Touching here, there, nowhere safe.
Doors behind soul filled crystal eyes.
Darkening the soul, to bandage the cracks left behind.
Stinging as strawberry tint flushes the crimson pipes.
Smoke fills the air, calming the stinging crimson pipes.
Sounds fill the hallway between the doors.
Deep acoustics pound in rhythms filling empty space.
Pitter patter of tippy taps rushing towards.
Bubbles of joy float to the front of the tunnel.
Langues barely understood any other time, But understood completely in the present.