Bottles

Bottles

Let’s take some wine bottles,

And turn them into goggles.

Sure, the glass will break our skin.

But our vision will be tainted.

When you can’t see, you can feel,

You feel the life flow through your veins.

Your lungs inflate like balloons,

Your thoughts blow away in the wind.

We’ll be like mindless zombies,

Walking with no purpose in the night,

Feeding on blood colored wine.

And leaving those bottles dry.

Drink until we’re numb,

Until our fingers feel nothing.

If life is no longer a tangible reality,

The world will become a hazy dream.

Isn’t it so utterly frightening,

To see through blurry bottles?

Some would say it’s a blessing,

When our minds no longer lead us.