November 24, 2009
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Indescribable filth pours through the cities his movements clumsy yet
swift, his burial clothing in a rage of untidiness.
He sometimes wears gowns so tattered as to render them scandalous. He sometimes wears suits so filthy that one would assume they were assembled from little more then dirt and dried blood.
His flesh is varying degrees of putrefaction, the freshly stricken face is slightly green and pliant, his eyes and long tongue since turned to dust, his lips pulled back into an everlasting skeletal smile.

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