bloody liked to be bloodied up. he’d leave home at night looking for it, veins pulsing with gas and neon.
bloody liked to throw punches, but also to take them, to take the taste of iron in his mouth and spit it back out in a perfect ratio arc of ichor.
he was god, but only when his knuckles were split and human flesh dripped from the bone.
My skin is yours
I am your
Be mine, because
My hands hold you
Will never let you fall away
But the living
never get to stay.
Artwork by Tei Park, words by Somi Jun