Encased within a pure porcelain cage
Rests a crimson beating lump
Cushioned on either side by pillows of breath
Gentle hands wrap themselves around it
Squeezing upon my pulsing tissue
Crushing me beneath the weight of mere words
Preventing the ruby liquid from escaping
Slowly it seeps through the narrow valves
That are quickly closing off the exit
Suddenly it speeds through a wide tube
Briefly glancing at potential paths
Never considering coming to a halt
Flooding further downwards
One almost unreachable goal in mind
Awaiting the pinch of a golden tunnel
Locking it in a place of safety
Whilst still giving it the freedom to move
Realisation strikes as it touches the tips
Its circular cells had circulated too far
Entering the uncharted territory of knowledge
That everything comes to an end
But if so, why does it keep coming back?
To place where it all began
With your gentle hands