what is this discovery of a cheap corpse
whose tightened jar contains imprisoned sunlight
whose hallow sheet now beckons
whose tracked eyes through my fingers weaves
and makes unjust shadows linger on the mind
and whose cause is that of trickles
that would gauge the cheeks
in unwarranted departure from clenched
and sorrowful eyes
what is its language, how does one speak it
this discovery that melts with a black proclamation
of lost intention that no longer lingers on its breath
but departs not in sorrow but in a chaos
and leaves unanswered its own existence

Colorful bubbles escape my mouth,
popping with a joyful aroma,
I laugh and out it goes,
now sticking to my back.
My embrace is suddenly permanent,
stuck in a good mood with a good person,
unable to pull myself away,
with a giggle, I remain.
Why mess with a good situation?
Being stuck to someone changes things,
suddenly words are spat, flaws revealed,
both wanting desperate escape, to breath,
though they cannot because of the gum that holds them.