on the building of Dema
i. In its construction, Dema- back then, a sandcastle of many names, was a pinnacle of efficiency. Models and calculations, faultless dreams of a mathematician, someone who believed the chaos of outer space is but to become order.
(the closest star was not amused, as it only shone brighter)
ii. In its birthing days, Dema- back then, a place of many opportunities, was a rapid, striking success. Drafts became concrete, and first voices, before only imagined, filled in the halls. They spread, they reached out their stranded hungry hands; so, the homes happened.
(and hospitals, and schools, and stores, and slaughterhouses, and and and)
iii. Dema- back then, a meaningless word, came to life.
(when it was never supposed to be)
(mother of sufferers)
iv. And so it was said, the building – done. He dreamt of things to never change again, he believed he was graced with the knowledge of turning wilderness of people into something practical.
v. And they hid in their homes, feared for their inefficient lives.
vi. It can’t be! He cried out in a place with stuffed meaning, unspoken; as the sun dimmed and dimmed, and dimmed until no more was it close.
vii. It can’t be- the change he tried to avoid. He came back and forth, with a hand and a sword, emptying every surface of what he deemed chaotic.
viii. It leaked through.
(it always did, and it hurt; and the star burned his skin, a scourge unto his blackened hands)
(abomination, you will be marked forever)
ix. From morgues in hospitals, stores and houses he built a wall.
x. In its downfall, Dema- back then a grave stepped in, was a cover upon choking subtlety. He built a wall of what the people have made, after him, of course.
xi. Abomination of guilt. Abomination of misunderstanding.
(he had choices taken away from him for he said he’s stronger than his maker)
xii. Now, in its being, Dema- now, the dreamless sleep, is of people he followed, people he cursed. Of every single closed eyelid over the blurred, reddish sun.














