oops !I'm absolutely assuring you, there's nothing sexual involved. When it comes to that, I like some living flesh on the outside of the skellington.
More like a reference to time slipping between fingers. I think. Like el Día de Muertos.
But then, who can be absolutely sure of anything, anyway?
It was *thanatophilia* of course I meant (no sexual connotation implied at all).
It's fascination of death, the love of dying and transience I had in mind.
Time slipping between fingers is a phrase that hits the nail on the head.
As to the above mentioned, I wouldn't do without flesh either.
Next time I check my words before I cause misunderstanding.
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