I wonder what those grunge singers and goth kids would have done if they knew such gods as you existed, if they had been told their militant atheism could find a better home in your worship than in the denial of any worship at all. How might their songs have changed if they had sung to you instead? What fires might their rebellion have lit if they had rebelled for you? Death gods abound and always have, but there are none in any pantheon that light even a candle to your fierce and fantastic blaze. If things had been different, you might have had a following instead of a single scribe. You might have had an army clad in leather and safety pins, black painted nails and kohl lined eyes; an army fed on stolen cigarettes and hard liquor, energized by sorrow and hate. I just wonder what others may have accomplished with you to fuel their dark creativity – could someone like Kurt Cobain or Elliott Smith have handled you, or would your darkness have only fed on their own? Or perhaps you were there after all, in another iteration, another cycle, whispering the same wrenching dirges in their ears as you do now in mine?