coffee table bruises

blood leaks/

this needle’s puncture dissolves in a scarlet marble

still

on my skin

before it follows

gravity in a single stream,

the carmine glows in unfaded clarity

as if nothing had been added

– insulin doesn’t have a colour.

a bruise will form, even the thinnest

of jabs can leave a trace. the haematoma below,

contours a story of

trial

& error.

a little twinge

quilted

my survival from the day before in

the obscure colour of bluegreenyellow –

when i move my

prick scarred fingers over it              

it doesn’t hurt hurt, you know –

but

a pain’s scale

alters

once the measured unit

becomes chronic.

i will stitch that story tomorrow &

the day after tomorrow

this liquid will trench my bloodstream

with a life extension

time and again.

                                        and again.

a temporary speckle for a battle so relentless –

my body

 only used to get bruises from

accidentally hitting the coffee table.