I live in a cave, wiggling and free, I gossip, I slurp, and sneak snacks with thee. I don’t have legs but I sure love to roam, helping you talk or whistle where I’m right at home.

The opposite of what you mean to convey, Some say I'm like rain on your wedding day. Contrary to what you maybe had in mind, Truth is: I'm kind of hard to define.

If you were to do me, you’d fill something up or fill it with holes. If you were to see me, you’d do what you’re doing right now.

Am I a shortened life science or maybe part of a flick, If am a danger then get away quick!

The people shift blame after my release, people who have never even seen me. They cover their faces in shame or disgust, wishing I had been held prisoner longer. Yet before they know it, I have spread myself so thin I disappear. Who am I?