We would live in this mosquito
That buzzed on a small stillness
In the larger stillness of a room.
We partook its buzz on stillness
Our blood carried ,on our bones
As smudges on walls of a room.
The room carried us, in stillness
And in mosquito buzz about us,
Little deaths of both our bodies.
Our body would die a mosquito
A little life on wall ,a red smear,
A smudge on its white stillness.