Red. Dark. A drop, a spot. Two spots. Does it scare you? Do you run? Flowing, pumping. Through your veins, under your skin. Under mine, when /I/ run. Falling, dripping. Staining flesh. My thighs are its valley, blood the river. Tell me, why do you run? Are you scared? Scared of its mystery, of the… Continue reading Bleed
THE GLASS ELEVATOR 