MOURIR SANS CICATRICES.

` you know, henry- i appreciate your company... it’s not often a simple merry man like me can garner someone’s attention. after all, it’s society that we all crave- & you happen to be just that for me. ...say, you wouldn’t happen to have anyone you care about, truly- a wife, husband, child, what have you- no worries, if you do... just curious, is all. humanity is a curious parasite, dare i say. ‘ ~ mortician man speaks holy words! the preacher of thy fathers ‘bove him sing hymns of goddesses ‘nd lilting angels! ‘pon cherried lips & sunkissed skin ( god given, surely! ) he smiles - like devil on judgement day, like god ‘pon his children. 

` ... henry, i have a few confessions to make. from one white haired vessel of both the god & the devil to another, per se- i’ve lied about many things in my life. whether i’d have liked to or not. you’re someone i wouldn’t want to lie to, so perhaps i’d come clean- for both your sake & mine. ‘

` for one, my name is not eros. i do not know how to explain how i got here- only, that i am not from this world or nation. i come from a place known as nohr- the grounds of the dusk dragon. ‘

` & lastly, henry, ‘ ~ says ( un! ) holy lover, the spitfire eros of hell’s fury- personified! hands taken with another set, grasped like a bluebird & it’s mother.