Christopher Kennedy

What Were You Doing In Porszombat?

I made windows out of human flesh. I instructed beggars how to eat their streets. Corpses flocked to me for resurrection. Diplomats secretly sought my advice to cure their most treacherous thoughts. And I fell in love one night under the window made of human flesh. I fell in love with the memory of the woman whose flesh I used. I could see her winding her way through the narrow streets, twirling her red skirt, and laughing at the clouds. Her murderer following closely behind her as a friend might follow a wayward friend.

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