A simple carass, and your coughing begins. The slightest of kisses, and you become corpses frozen in the ice. I, the corruption of your so vulnerable flesh, wither you to your last wheeze.
So like the old days, when I meandered across manure-stinking villages and filth-ridden cities, savoring the warmth of their breath. Thanatos and I rode together, back then. And why not?
Who else but we luxuriate when they die?
I will not apologize for all of those blackened bodies, those lives we stole together. Nor will I apologize now, as we ravage you anew. I had to reconcile with him, you see. Ti eรญnai o loimรณs chorรญs thรกnato?
What is Pestilence without Death?
Corona …
blotting out the sun
fresh rainclouds
Frank J. Tassone 
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