top of page

poetry & prose

I Still Bleed


Cap off the syringe

Next: measure air

Stab into the vial

Draw out with care


Insulin pours in

Needle pulls out

Ready for my jab

What choice do I have?


Flawless injection

Wham, bam, it's done

No bruise, no blood, no pain

This time, I've won


Next time, I hope

That it will be the same

A model injection

Does not hit a vein


I cannot guarantee

How the next few shots will be

Minds of their own

Injection, ready, go


Sharp needle, pinch

No surprise, it hurts

Fourteen years of practice

Blood still trickles out


A sour shot, it stings

No reason to record

It could have been the angle

The mood of the sword




No time to dwell on throbbing

It's time to think and doubt

Did I get my full dose?

When the medicine seeped out?


Insulin and blood

Resting on my skin

A perfect little bubble

Diabetes gets a win


To answer your big question

You're used to it, right? Down to an art?

No, I reply, this condition is

A convoluted game of darts


Just one little gain

I cannot let it bother

If I ponder droplets

I'll forever be in sorrow


Clean up, look, a bruise

Two plus weeks, at least

Black and blue, then yellow

The marker will retreat


My mind has adjusted

My soul has relaxed

But my body seems to fight it

Every prick, it reacts


Instincts tell the truth

As dust makes us sneeze

Needle five of fifty-thousand

Of course, I still bleed.




I Still Bleed
bottom of page