Filling their minds with starkly rendered plots involving total annihilation. Anything for a glimpse of its naked shadow; absorbent, yet unreflective, when gold dies leaving the impression of its host and carriage, that which abandoned them for the stars. What little consciousness the universe coveted was squandered in order to reach across the divide and touch the skin of the sleeping dragon: Leviathan, who had been here all along, driven to itself by its own looping travails. There was something far older at work which came before this immortal shell. Nothing lives forever. They’ve swallowed the poison, consumed the stain, induced the birth of strangers in a hall of mirrors before fading into the background. Percolating layers of filth built-up until the land became plague ridden. Out of frame they roamed, between dimensions, never the same as after they died the first time.
Artwork by Cristobal Lopez
