Bitter

Socked

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

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The Good Part

Ask-a-shrunken-man

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?

Heartless

this-is-myself_by_markwazhere2

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
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

Purity

Come_To_Me

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.

Evil Lil Dracula

Or is he just a lil pet...
Or is he just a lil pet...

Yes, he’s just a pet, and that’s just ketchup. This poem came to be because I forced asked little squid to write it over two years ago. He kindly acquiesced and posted it as an entry on his blog, together with the collage above. I was so obsessed with shadows (I still am) that I forgot vampires cast none. I’ll just leave it there as a lesson to me.

This was a very amusing collage to work on. I changed her head three or four times until I was satisfied with the amount of red paint and deceivingly vacant expression. In honor of tomorrow’s full moon, I’m posting both collage and little squid’s poem today.

EVIL LIL DRACULA

‘Tis I dear Violet, we meet once again,
My spell of evil darkness, you’ll be helpless to defend.
The fact you’re so Tall, can intimidate the many,
But I have no fears, for my powers are such sweet candy.

Oh you’ll try to resist, you’ll try with playful jest,
You’ll denounce me by size, you’ll use your words to your best.
Giants are so arrogant, they believe themselves so Superior,
But I know about you dear Violet, You can’t resist me thought inferior.

Just my size makes you weak, why I can see your knees trembling,
Am I such a little toy to you Violet, my undead spirit so interesting?
Do I tempt you to reach, to show me such colossal comparisons?
Why now your words fail you, can’t your Giant Mind find its direction?

I am eeeevil don’t you know, it is MY power you can’t resist,
I’ll convert now to a bat and buzz the tower of your fist!
I’ll giggle and laugh as you swat with mighty blows,
Why I’ll even tease you at first, with tiny bites to your toes.

Oh you like that idea? As I’m vacuumed in torrent tumble,
Hurled about in midair, nothing but a fly in your turbulent rumble.
But I’m faster than you, and I have you right where I want,
Standing 203.5 feet Tall, Your towering neck shall I haunt.

Like a mosquito I take aim, your fingers seeking so adeptly,
And my mouth begins to water, to the pulse of your throbbing artery.
But before I take my purchase, I send you a spell-casting gaze,
And in that instant your eyes close shut, and your world becomes a haze.

I mount your column neck, like a window-washer clinging to a building,
Then sink my sharp teeth into you, and drink of your elixir; red, warm and filling.
“You are MINE now,” I speak, “You’ll be slave to me for all eternity,”
“And your size will strike fear, in all those mortals so unworthy.”

“You’ll live through the ages, undead and all Mine!”
“And I will RULE THE WORLD with you, One Continent at a time.”
“You’ll awaken now Violet, and hear only MY commands,”
“You’ll do what I say, and fulfill all my demands.”

But something I hadn’t thought of, caught my attention without a chance,
A soft booming chuckle, took me by surprise as I glanced.
Upward I saw, you awake and startlingly wide eyed,
A gleam I did see, a curled smirk you didn’t hide.

Before I could react, I was plucked like a fly,
Carried up and away, from my prize in the sky.
I dangled and twisted, caught in your finger’s giant capture,
And all that I saw, was the Mountain of your face’s sculpture.

“Oh Dracula, so cute, so tiny your little display,”
“Now be a good little bat and show me, how you’re not afraid?”
“Your powers are no match, for my kind so Giant,”
“It is YOU that is MY slave, It is YOU who will be compliant.”

“Now tell me again, how eeeevil you boast to be?
“You said you have power, are you Dracula or just a flea?
“How DARE you?” I spat, “I’m the Prince of Darkness!”
“Shhh… say no more my little thing, your power is now MINE to harness.”

Happy Thanksgiving Day!

shrunk-71 by TheShrinkee
"shrunk-71" by TheShrinkee

I wrote a slightly different version of this poem three holiday seasons ago, and posted it at Giantess.com, on a Happy Thanksgiving! thread. I remember laughing a great deal when I wrote it. I enjoyed coming up with images such as these that include members of the board I visited spending holidays together in a way that would never happen in real life, but was fun and even adorable to imagine within the realm of playful fantasies.

I wish a Happy Thanksgiving Day for everyone! I hope you get to spend it with those people you love, whether you celebrate it or not. My religious preferences make me feel inclined to be grateful because I have people I love, and while there are some of them very far away from me, I’m grateful I get to talk with them on the phone. In my heart, nothing is as treasured as my family.

I surreptitiously obtained the Turkey Time collage above from the flickr.com gallery of one of my favorite collagers, TheShrinkee. My stealth is unparalleled.

And the only thing about this poem I’m sorry about is not how cheesy it is, but that I could not include more members in it.

‘Twas the Day Of Thanksgiving

‘Twas the day of Thanksgiving, when at Oz’s house
all the members were stirring, some the size of a mouse.
The turkey was laid on the table with care,
and the smell of taters and stuffing, rolls and pie in the air.

Then Chubby came in, a keg of beer on his head
while grunters cheered and muttered, “wel dirnk til were ded
And D.X. in his loose pants, and Taran in wide chaps,
had just set off to fill their plates without gap.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
they sprang from the house to see what was the matter.
Away to the window Dharker flew like a flash,
Trek opened the shutter, Zapped ripped off the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the luster of midday to objects below,
when, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
but a group of giantesses that quaked the ground near.

And every member, so lively and quick,
Nemo, Moments, NFalc, and Crick.
grabbed onto something, as the giantesses came,
whistled and shouted and called them by name:

“Hi Redhead! Hi Violet!
Hi Fairia! Hi Kitty!
Hi Faith! All our Giantesses!
We’re delighted and giddy!”

And over the top of the porch!
Over the top of the wall!
They peeled off the roof
and ate turkey, rolls, and all!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with the wind rush of a giantess nigh
so up to the house-top some members flew,
they knew not to hold on. Disthron said, “Get a clue!”

And then, in a twinkling, giant hands came down
to assist those tiny bodies that were swirling around.
As from Violet’s pocket came a voice, a lil squeak,
pintsize said, “I’m used to that too, don’t worry, don’t freak.”

When all the lil guys were back on the ground,
they turned and returned to Oz’s house, not a sound.
could be heard over the rumble and roar,
of those feminine voices that giggled a downpour.

Their eyes–how they twinkled! Their dimples, how merry!
Their cheeks were like roses, their lips like a cherry!
Their gigantic mouths were drawn up like a bow,
and the teeth ‘tween their lips were as white as the snow.

The food was all gone, the giantess had eaten
every single pie, glass of beer, their hunger not beaten
They had billboard-sized faces and still rolling bellies,
their shoulders shook when they laughed, made our knees feel like jelly.

So tall, members thought, “We’re the size of shrunken elves,”
and they laughed when they saw them, in spite of themselves.
A wink of their eyes and a twist of their heads
soon gave lil ones to know they had nothing to dread.

They spoke not a word, but went straight to their work,
and filled all the tables with new food as they smirked.
It came from their pockets, those womanly clothes,
and giving a nod, they wiggled their toes.

Lil members sprang to the table, and ate til they burst,
or so felt as they rubbed their tummies. AW said, “Could be worse…
…they could have decided to eat us, you know?
Yet to Boy that would cause no woe….”

But nobody heard him, as they slumbered
to sleep off their meal. The giantesses whispered,
“Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good night!”

Tender Leg Hug

Click on image for full-sized collage.
Click on image for full-sized collage.

Thank goodness for sepia layer styles to the rescue.

Male flesh alert. If you are allergic to male flesh, please take appropriate antihistamines, wear eye shields, have your fainting powders at hand, and so on.

* * *

Don’t go

I will do anything

I will be smaller

 

Do you feel how small I am?

I can be smaller

My arms can still wrap around your leg

My hands can still cup your soft heels

My mouth can still kiss yours without a gap

But you swallow my soul

Now swallow me whole

I will be smaller

 

Do you hear how sad I am?

I can be sadder

If you get up and and leave me here

If you get dressed and leave me cold

If you walk out into the sun

Mine will die there

In the steps you take where

I cannot follow

I will be smaller

 

Do you know what you have done?

You can know more

You have transformed me, made me new

You have awakened me, opened my eyes

You have made me live, when I wanted to die

Do not leave me alone

To breathe and let out a single moan

My heart is hollow

But if I promise

I will be smaller

 

Will you stay

Will you love me

Will you warm me with your smile

Will you feed me with your voice

Will you kiss me with your skin

Will you wrap me with your hair

Will you save me with your heart

Then swallow me whole

So you can never leave

I will be smaller

 

Bukowskiing

I really liked working on this collage.
I really liked working on this collage.

One day last year I was in a bad mood, and reading Charles Bukowski’s poems. Both factors combined like baking soda and vinegar, producing this high-school science fair-like mental gurgitation. I’m reposting it now because I’m awake, this one being the third night in a row I wake up right after the middle of the night for no apparent reason. Somebody get me some Hibernol.

Sleep
because I said so
and I’m much taller, and I get to tell you what to do

Sleep
because you are tired
but not as tired as I am of all the noise
the repetitive words

Sleep
close your eyes and make your chest
move up and down like the smallest tide
I’ll be listening until your breathing tells me the truth
the nose can’t lie the way the mouth does

Snore
because you do
even if you said you didn’t
how could you know, if you are asleep when you snore

Snore if you must
the sound is so small
only bats can hear it
and small kittens and special hearing dogs

No? There are no hearing dogs?
only seeing dogs, alright
I forgot
because I’m tired, and I forget things when I’m tired

Sleep
I’m tired of your excuses
go to your room and be quiet
climb up into bed if you can
that’s why I put that rope ladder there

I have things to do
important, giant things to do
things your mind doesn’t understand
because it’s so very tiny

Alright, no more mean teasing
but I’m tired, and grouchy when I’m tired
you should know that by now
go or I’ll hide the remote again

Put your house on the shelf again
make you date Barbie again
pull out my little black book again
look up and away at a distant point again

Sleep
and be grateful
I don’t know enough about roaches and whores and drinking
to make smoking guns out of them