Blood Falls

It sure does.

Imagining myself as a warm vascular rupture seeping through the glacial extremities of an otherwise indifferent continent. No friends and only the magnificent solitude of existing without ever having to negotiate with loneliness - can bear me. I am a hemorrhage being wronged as a geological wound, a beautiful accidental nutrient source for the innumerable psychrophilic organisms waiting to metabolize my remains. I let them feed. I let my iron become somebody else's sustenance, my dissolution another organism's metabolism. I am alive, though alone, even more insistently alive for having nobody to witness the distinction.

gay

what’s not to love