I prefer your lies to mine.
They live on, in my nightmares.
Fading glimmers where the tunnel ends.
Moonlight flows off his bed
The reflection seeps in a dream
Fern Lake, Lotus pond but a mile long
His feet push the clear waves
Drift through lilies, open up a path
An ode to moonlight.
Spotted in space. Earliest sighting around satellites, shocked an astronomer, intrigued his colleague. Closer and closer, black were the eyes that looked back at them. Eyes empty on closer examination, skin decayed, perhaps mummified. Larger than an average man, face contorted and caught in a scream. The horror of decay, the intrigue of how it went there, how it stayed there all gone when they saw it’s mouth move. Astronomers swear they heard their names.
One more sketch
A quick sketch of Matilda from Leon the professional