Where it ends

“Lightning” by quaoarus

My optical drive is misbehaving

Like everything in my life

Except for my son and my cat

So I fix it

Because a giantess doesn’t only break things

She builds and she grows and she goes on

She moves on and leaves the past behind

Burning bridges with a smile

Like the one I formed that morning

When this body was born

But I was already here, in this world

Looking at the map of my life

Moving the pieces on a board that runs amok

Because that’s what they do

Life changes the rules and pulls the rug

And the rug under me was huge

It had to be

I can sit here and sink

Or I can grow taller and laugh

And think of how I see the world

Everyone in it a small toy

Everything in it a small toy

Because that’s how my brain works

And I love it

Sometimes I think of medication

Because sometimes it hurts

Would I change seeing it all from up here?


This is how I am

And when this body drops and rots

I’ll go on


And I’ll hold the tiniest thing

And I’ll love the biggest thing

And they won’t be any different to me

Because everything is small to me


So when you feel the air move and touch your face

That’s my breath against your flesh

When you plant your feet against the Earth

That’s my will spinning it

Look up and see the stars rushing by

That’s my game of lights

Lift your hand and say hello

And when you hear a distant rumble

When the sun winks from behind a cloud

When there’s a halo around the moon

When the Earth trips and dusts itself off

That’s me, saying hello back


For Sale

“littleman3” by Sardax

Alone, you stand

in that glass cage

a price on your head

and on the rest of your body

your gaze lost to the rest of the world

turned inward to some safe place

because outside you’re for sale

clearance-priced flesh

a segregate, a cast-off

unsuccessful, returned for a refund, unwanted

But here I stand

my wallet as open as my heart

I see you standing alone

the last one on display

and you move me

I choose you

above all others

below market price

a store’s trash is a woman’s treasure

I buy what’s already mine

my property

I bought others before

unsuccessful refunded unwanted

but not you

you are perfect

in that glass that makes your walls

I want to give you a different world

my world

I buy you

a shopping bag your womb

to a new world

I’m now your world

your gaze lifts, cast down before

your face, aimed at my height

casting the shadow of a promise

that things will be different now

you are no longer in nesbted [?]

you are no longer for sale

I own you and the threads of that sale

weave your purpose

you’re here for me

you exist for me

every cell of your body belongs to me

fill the corners of your mouth

lips swollen with a smile

they’ll kiss me soon

whether you want to or not

I’m not here to reason your purpose

I’ve given it to you

accept it or fight it

I don’t give a fuck

because now at least

your heart beats in flesh

when it never beat in glass

when you were for sale

* * *

If you’d like to read the original text as written when I was wasted, you may do so here.

I win

“The Apocalypse” by GTSX3D

The house where you live
The size of a die to me
Snake eyes for windows
My feet cracking the asphalt on your street

I win

Did you think I would not find you?
That I would not cross the distance?
I’ll play the game
I’ll lift your house and I’ll roll your house

I’ll win

Window pips flashing in the sun
Because bad things happen in the light
And the day is bright
And my eyes are brighter through the breaking glass

I win

I win because I’m taller
When your house stops rolling
It’s only because my foot stops it
Everything in it blended like a painting gone awry

I won

Now be born from your furniture
Emerge from the rubble
Your house is no longer a home
Your body is all that remains from the quake

I won

Come out, come out, wherever you are
Nothing left but kindling and you
A phoenix before the fire
My hands reaching for you like flames

I won

And I peel off the roof that hides you
And I find your trembling body
And I lift you to my skin
And now you burn, and now I burn

Ashes will cover the world



And so you shrank me
And left me here
Alone with you
Who gets to sleep

So I get up from between your sheets or panties or feet
And I climb down the side of that mountain you insist on calling bed
And I spit in your food
Just a drop or two

And so you use me
Day in and day out
And leave me here and go
Out with your friends

So I break into your closet and unzip my toylike pants
And leave something in your shoes
You won’t even notice it when you wear them
A drop as invisible as me

And so you yell at me
Because I’m irritating
And say what’s on my mind
Tiny but not small

So I hack into your phone and text his number
Your most unfavorite ex, the one that did that
And beg him to come over at 3am
Preferably drunk

And so you keep me
And tell me it’s forever
I don’t mind; I kinda like it
But sometimes you piss me off

The Good Part


Isn’t it fun?

When someone borrows something you put together?

When you collage an image of something you love, and someone sees fit to use it for expressing their ideas about a world tiny in their eyes?

It’s pretty awesome.

The above image is mine. I created it from images I found on Google.

Of some books, and of Andrew Cooper, a model.

And the someone used it as a header for their Tumblr, which I found just now, when I searched for “shrunken man”.

But now, for the meat of this blog entry.

The Good Part

Tell me the good part again.
Is it when I found you, and shrank you?
Because I saw you, and thought, “Yeah.”
“That’s the guy.”
“He’s the one.”
“The only one that has to be small.”
Other ones may or may not be small, but he has to be.

Or was it after, when I told you I’d done it, and you screamed?
You screamed and yelled at me.
For a long time.
For months, or days, or hours.
Or one that felt like the other.
But I took it, and I grabbed you, and I showed you.
That it had to be you, that it could be no one else.

Is that the good part?
Or was it when I wrapped my hand around you?
And made you travel my world in eighty minutes?
Did you like that?
I didn’t even know your name, but I knew you.
Did you know me? Did you want to know me?
Was I the good part?

Or was it when you slept and dreamed?
And healed.
All the bruises and the scrapes.
You know I didn’t mean to, and you didn’t mean to.
A world of hurt in unmeant meanings.
A world of pain that was the good part.
A world of me written with the ink of you.

Or was the good part when you woke up?
When I woke up and saw the words.
The truth in everything you said.
Is the truth the good part?
Is the heart the good part?
My heart was in my hand.
Did you feel it pound around you when I squeezed?

Or is now the good part?
I think that’s what you’d say.
Now when there is an open space.
And your ground trembles no more.
And your mind is full of your own voice.
And you belong to yourself again.
Is now your good part?



I was at a bus stop
The kind that crumbles in the sun, even though it has a cover for shade
When she sat next to me
And started talking

At first I didn’t respond
Because sometimes, if you don’t respond, they go away
But then she said,
“They don’t have hearts.”

I asked, “Who doesn’t?”
And she said, “In the factory, they are leaving out the hearts.”
I didn’t know what that meant
I should have left then

But our bus was here
And she got up and I gave her a helping hand. I didn’t mean to. I just did
She liked that I did that
And told me the rest

“Those tiny men they sell now,” she said
“They don’t come with hearts anymore.
They figured out how to keep them going without hearts.”
“But that’s not possible,” I said

“Everyone needs a heart that beats,” I said
“They don’t,” she continued, even though my mind was already looking away
“Because they are so small,” she said, as though she was saying “I have cancer.”
“How do you know?” I asked

She looked at me as though I had not been listening
“I work there. I worked there when they still had hearts, but now they don’t.”
“Have you seen this yourself?” I asked, still hoping she was drunk or blind or dead
“Yes. I had to assemble some myself. It’s not that hard. The juice and the egg and the glass…”

I didn’t understand, but I did
“So they are coded to grow and develop and emerge as tiny adults, but without a heart.”
“Now you are getting it. They act a little different too. It chills my heart.”
I didn’t want to understand, but I did

I went home, and I looked at him
I picked him up, and I pressed my ear to his tiny toy-sized chest. Nothing
“Do you have a heart?” I asked him. It
“I love you,” it said

“Do you have a heart?” I repeated
A little louder this time. Words with a beat, trying to jumpstart his, just in case
“I love you,” it repeated. I tried to feel its pulse
Nothing. I got nothing

Undertoy – 2

Under_Toy_2 by Flagg3D

This is the second image of this series, now accompanied by poetry unencumbered by rules, and possibly direction. Not the straightforward language I love in Bukowski’s works, but how can anyone expect clearheadedness from a tiny man who experiences the daily questions, the constant attention of a giantess who wants to know his every thought? In case he ever has any. I wrote this for my very real little man, and a constant source of inspiration, Hopier.

Bukowskiing 2

Why do you always ask

which one I love the best?

I love them both equally, and I know you are going to say

that I have to pick one and I can’t and don’t


You chose me the way light moves through space

You shrank me the way the sun rises

unstoppable, inescapable, unerring

You made me yours, a part of your geography


Don’t make me part of your politics

My brain is too small to lean to this side, or that

but it lobbies endlessly for your decision

left, right, center, where you tell me I belong


I’m where you want me to be

no discussion or argument or a face made of masks

but how can you feel it?

laughter that rings through your body from your back pocket

smiles born into taut darkness


How do you do it? How can you tell?

You feel that too?

You feel everything? Even that?

Especially that. Always that.

My answer to your questions is wordless, thoughtless, and real


If you move me, it will move with me

grab me and shove me from left to right

and when you are tired of East and West, go out and

tell your friends when they ask about me

that “I’m in the middle of things”


“In a dark place” you’ll say with a smile

“Cheeky bastard” you’ll begin to laugh uncontrollably

and they’ll look at you and frown as I tickle

your funny bone and your tail bone and your tale bone and your tall bone


And I’ll make my own jokes to my audience of blue fabric

I have a bone to pick with her

I’ll throw her a bone

bad to the bone


Then I won’t be able to think anymore

because you are walking again and you know what happens

when you walk and the earth moves

and the moons move and I’m their satellite


In the orbit of your curved path

rotating the only trajectory I know

gyrating in concert with masses too large to understand

gravity too strong to resist

pulling me closer and closer to the end and the beginning


So don’t ask me to choose

I never will and I never can

you chose me, you make me, you build my method

I go where you go, where you put me

pick pocket me, bury me there, that, then


You’ll always hear a peep out of me

a back talk out of me, a rearview mirror of your thoughts

that are larger than they appear

I’ll always watch your back oh I’m ruining it?

I’ll shut up now



I did this to you

I made you what you really are

And I love it

I told you I would

I warned you

“I will shrink you,” I said

And you laughed

“Prove it, show me.”

And I did

Now come out of there

Seek out the light from that pile of clothes

You do not need them anymore

From this day on

You will need nothing at all

I promise

I will keep you safe

I will keep you hidden

I will keep you warm

Do not worry

No one sees us

Come out now, and climb into my hand

I am waiting

And I am not patient

Look at me, do not be afraid

You are not?

You are not

You love it

I see that you do

Rush to my hand, and hide in its fold

Leave all else

I promise

No one will take you

No one will hurt you

No one will find you

And if they do

I will hunt them

Make them into nothing

Crush them, destroy them

For you

Because you are mine

You were mine the moment I saw you

The moment you smiled

The moment you spoke

The moment you touched me

You were lost to all else

And bound to me

Come to me, little man

Disappear into me

And be gone from this world

Signs of a Happy Valentine's Day

I was going to write a poem to go with this,
perhaps some other time.
In the meantime, pretend this is a poem
though nothing in it rhymes.

Have a happy Valentine’s Day
may you spend it in her shoe.
The above is a bathroom sign
for ladies taller than you.

They need a special place
to take their little men.
Too small to reach the toilet
too little to flush the can.

But what does that have to do
with this celebration of love?
I don’t know.
I just like signs.

And straight lines.

I posted this at my old blog two years ago.

I’d been wanting to come up with signs similar to those used for vehicular traffic, so when I found the original background somewhere on the Internet, I thought I could steal edit it and have fun with it. I created a few signs based on the female and male shapes, and tried different hearts to go along with them.

The above gifs are my favorite ones, and since they are gifs, they are animated. I think I might have entered the initial sign with the stylized red heart for an image contest two years ago (or longer), but I don’t remember.