This water bead in never being,
complete with confusions of cells,
of unspecial wombs,
whips in blood and phlegm,
strikes a snaking cord,
snaps taut in seconds.

Escaping this route,
shrieks explode
inside a glass room...
their sounds become
a strange comedy
of exhalation,
laughter,
occasional breakdowns...

Before long,
passion returns all this
into a water bead
drifting in a dim never being,
losing to a bright bitter is.