Splash.
I'm lodged in your vein.

Blood oozing from your now

punctured skin. From the polished,

wooden floor, to your plump big toe, I dart.

My fingernails clawing at your cells, keeping

my thin slice of a body imprisoned within. Soon tears

will flow with blood and I'll try to hang on longer. Hang on

until silver tongs rip me up. I'll take palm-fulls of your injured flesh as souvenirs. My presence will stay, covered by a cloth, slowly seeping

deeper, turning your muscles green, suffocating every

plea for health. Infection will spread like the cracks

in that polished, wooden floor that gave me life.

Your arteries will begin to tighten until your

limb altogether becomes useless. It’s

funny how someone as puny as

me can have such a huge

effect. Maybe you

should wear

shoes next

time.