Dorma.

Beautiful Death.

Like others before it, this blog contains dark material. If you’re the sensitive sort, find a different blogger.

(There are a few lawyers in Hell.)

Agatha. She talks tough, but it’s all a front, she lies like the proverbial sidewalk.

Wasted words, I tell her, but she does make some interesting claims, even I’ve read her few scribblings. They’re a little slow coming. It’s all about access really, who gets here first? I do. It’s not hard, since I own the music. Until she has enough songs to challenge me, so to speak, I will always be here first. Quick, write some amazing songs about witches, I feel sorry for her…

Needless to say, she hijacked every song we know with anything witchy in it. Imagine me, Satan, Lord of Eternal Darkness, sharing “Burn the Witch” with her, unacceptable and impossible to stop. It’s anyone’s guess who gets here first for that one. But still, she doesn’t even have a playlist, how long can she last?

Enough about her.

Death is the subject under discussion. I’m often a man of my word.

Do you think about it, loyal acolyte? Do you wonder if it lives in you even now? A true disciple won’t fear it, having many things you would be happy to leave behind. Someone interested enough to read the Devil surely wants to meet him. Your life no doubt reflects this, somehow. Most mortals shy away from darkness.

The teeming masses buy me, living as they do, in cheap, knock off versions of Hell. The well-educated disavow me until they see my shadow. God, as you know, is a big fan, he needs someone to make him look good. You know enough about heaven to see that god is, as I’ve said before, a lunatic. It’s the worst retirement home ever.

A thinking mind will expect nothing from death. No afterlife, no haunting loved ones, simply a state of nothingness. It’s quite naïve, considering. That’s one of the things I love about you, you always think you know enough to tell others how it is. You walk in chronic unhappiness; this gives you an excuse to devote your life to finding joy in any place you like. Drugs, sordid sex, petty tyranny, religious righteousness, trolling, mastering your dog- wife- kids, reading blogs about hatred. Remember, there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s an instinct that could save your life.

Your precious, vital life. What do you do with it again? Nothing. How else do you explain the sheer ludicrousness of ‘killing time’?

You have, actually. Killed time. Rendered it insignificant with your new, artificial world. It’s quite a feat, when you think about it. Almost ALL of you freely giving your time to the unreal. A game on a phone beats, quite literally, Everything. Can you imagine what this looks like to me? Half the world is not mating. You’re struggling to remove sex altogether, from what I can tell. Let it go, along with other quaint notions, like gender and genetics.

It's only a matter of time before you will be claiming to be cross-species. Half man half wolf, part woman part snake, a ‘son’ that is five spirit and claims invertebrate ancestry, a creature who can bear children but bears no resemblance to a woman otherwise.

Have you banished sweet death? No. That well-funded fight goes on forever.

Embrace it, I say, your hideous world is too crowded for you to draw a proper breath. Sunlight can’t reach you, your rain is malevolent, the cold a personal thing. Hell is warm and cozy, can you doubt it? Come down to me and learn how irrelevant death really is.

“Spirals”  by  Monkey3   The perfect death song, if you can match that shiver of an ending. Which you could, say, driving into something. You would have to know your target, Google can help with that. I am smiling.