They killed them. They fucked them.

The exponential expansion of the demon population tore across the planet fucking, and vomiting inside, and defecating over, and pissing in groups in girls ears - merely getting some of their ugliness[!]

in, those forced out and despite everything still clung to, finally retained reality -

Their souls winked out, left, in a visible process, at least to Art - and then their faces became

that face,

of profound and sarcastic nothing-love.

In varying degrees the faces, these images, of a kind of imperishable beauty were replaced by nothing-land. By that face of profound and sarcastic nothing-love. A parody of beauty, and a mockery of/at the notion of goodness - that it was even possible/desirable,

itself.

Replaced by the demon coupon, everybody left.

He watched them warp and defile the place. He watched the rivers, the beautiful streams, the burns that chattered amiably between the hidden/non-random marvels of nature/beauty - watched all turned to shit and putrefaction.

Working with a mania that was uncontainable, a planet of demons set about destroying everything made by nature or man, that could be ascribed to the beautiful; goodness, or a celebration at any kind of effort toward truth. Any kind of vague recognition of the nature of human beings was sacked, sacked; pulled down to its foundations, burned, physically defecated upon - shat up - and destroyed... rendered nothing.

Or merely twisted enough to parody to render the whole thing ridiculous.

It was all systematically destroyed in Shensh - by the demons out wounds.

They killed everything good and destroyed everything worth living for.

And then he saw those structures rise.

He saw them work the final reality structures pulled out of the doom chambers themselves, and out his eyes, through Old Works, that by his looking - he kept alive/distorted through wounds. Worked on the ground by demons to create an entirely new planet.

An entirely new system of architecture and nightmare geometries was born across the whole planet. They rose; the structures that said nothing, said function, said there was nothing human - in planes, and architectures, designed – not consciously, even - just the natural consequence of the demonic mind.

They forced you to see nothing. They forced you to think there could be nothing. They forced you to think there was nothing worth loving or existing for, and that nature itself, and even reality - were nothing. Random. Unloved. Uncreated. And hated – hated, you personally hated and your eradication wished for/for reasons that were … holy.

For reasons that were kind.

The only good that could exist, was that in relation to suicide, to the love of nothing, and non-existence.

The buildings that rose said: die.

The buildings that rose said: decrease.

The buildings that rose said: eradication.

The buildings that rose said: be nothing,

and die.

In a process that couldn't be understood either in terms of time. In terms of sequentiality. Art watched them destroy his home, burn Shensh, and reduce it to an ideology chamber that in its very structures imposed upon you the only reality that there could ever be.

That of unreality. That of fakeness; that of self-loathing, that of nothing love, and that of lies.

His eyes that could not close wept.