he seems to have a deep open wound and shameless beautifully he shares to others. Once or twice we pull a thread or more out of his scar to scale to ours. Once or twice even like sick people we peel the healing skin of his wound and patch on ours. His gravity pulls into a spiraling hollow suffocating at times, and yet the sensation is addictive. i believe he is aware of his power, cause i can feel it when he starts his ritual dancing with deluding arousing dark tasty words, he knows he will get the attention he unintentionally crave for. And many come with voluntary hearts and join the naked dances drinking blood from their wounds. and i would watch from a far, i would sneak and touch my self my own wound believing he would watch me beyond the seven skies, thru pieces of everyone’s shattered hearts.