Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Note from a Wolf

There is nothing too excruciating for me to wish upon my enemies. Let them drown a thousand times. Let them be gnarled up by the smallest and sharpest teeth. Let them be born into endless nightmares and never wake up.

(don’t think of yourself as such a savage thing for saying that, please)

Don’t even act for a moment like it’s not natural. Gad damnit, we’ve been competing for the right to survive since we were nothing more than a mere cell. And don’t act for a moment like death didn’t have a vital place, there, in the very beginning.

(all things in the wilderness are accompanied with pain, my dear, it’s ok)

I watch ceiling fans spin like flaming turbines. The storm is coming and we shall all die, don’t you know? Don’t you know that we can’t escape the crash? We can brace and hope all we want, but we can hardly put a dent in the things to come. I must run.

(in the autumn, the leaves fall, yet they are born again so soon, and it’s absolutely lovely)

I'm healthy, fresh, and bright. Have I becoming less wild? This concrete keeps me so far away from the dirt. I need the smell of dirt in my nose. I'm afraid of the future. I’m afraid to breathe loudly, even when I’m alone in the dark. 

(I’m not afraid to say these things to you, my dear, it’s only the truth)

Have I forgotten the fine and fantastic art of killing? Sometimes I am too weary to even chase a squirrel, and just the other day, as I was walking down the street, some woman had the audacity to call me a husky! She should have ran in terror! She thought she recognized … Something.

(I know, things hold you back from voicing your desires)

My teeth are yellow because they have touched blood. A wolf’s teeth are not clean ivory nor glimmering porcelain. Yellow is one of the colors of the body. Blood corrupts everything and makes it red. But yellow is hiding there, as well as green and purple and the deepest of blues. And as I tear things into little pieces I am raptured by the colors of the world, and I list them all into my memory before they blend into the red.

(you couldn’t run from me if you wanted to)

These people have forgotten where meat comes from. They kill my food. They kill my family. Oh, let the seas come washing in! Let the sky fall already! Don’t let them breed my sons into chihuahuas. The sun is so cruel for continuing to shine. The moon is too busy for even the most casual of howls.

(yet i am still thankful for every grain of sand that falls through your hourglass)

I have come to realize that I seek something or someone that is unattainable. But, perhaps, I can find it by stepping out of norm. I must taste the dirt again even if it requires my final sparks of life. I see hidden symbols in street signs. The radio signals that people cannot hear sing secrets to me.

(all secrets are the best secrets, so long as they are true and well kept)

Every quiet suburban night I am born again. Every time they pass from dusk until dawn without a meager glance outside, I am there, walking in the shadows, waiting. With ever a frolic, I sing and dance the shadows back alive, back into their dreams. And they will see me there, finally, I will mark with my jaw where the nightmare shall end, and in that end they will only see me.

(dreams tap into a hidden and immortal aspect of our perception)

I have waited a long time to become a reunion of broken parts. How many places have I been scattered? I embrace my madness. You run from yours, as it is slowly leaking out of your lips, and it chases you, these imaginary witches. Don’t you realize you are the one casting spells?

(when I am sad it is because you are sad)

She thought she recognized...
She thought she recognized...

(I am happy when you are happy)

I am running through the streets mad and wild. The police hounds are on my trail. The consequences of crime will soon be impossible to escape. But I will gnaw my leg out of any beartrap. I must keep running.

(I am running after you. I will always run after you)

We live in the devil’s courthouse. We are wrapped in a spider’s web, and that web extends for miles and eons to the deepest parts of space. When we were born, Death shot an arrow, and that arrow will always hit your heart, no matter how fast you run.

(it chases a million roses too, and a million more breathless doves)

I hear the call of the forest in all the whispering wind. The nightingales of distant vales find me here in this concrete tomb. My hunger is beginning to grow. That woman called me a husky…. She thought she recognized... No! that’s not me! I am wild and free! I have to run. I have to run...

(if i could grow wings i would fly to you, through stormclouds and snow and ash)

They want to break our teeth with their fists and kiss the blood off our lips. My perfect teeth. My perfect yellow teeth. I will run as far as my legs legs will carry me. The radio signals are singing again. It burns in my ears and my claws.  Even my own desires seem to be coded in a language i do not or cannot understand.

(I won’t let you go)

These roads are a vast labyrinth. I get caught up on little forks in the road and the beauty of raindrops on a leaf. The smells carry me, the hidden songs. The hunger has come back to me. I must bite into something… I must keep running. The dogs are barking at me. Life is so heavy and fragile. She thought she recognized….

(passion and pain are often the same thing)

Something. Something. I’m hunting something. The hunger. I forgot. I feel the natural resonating frequency of this body. Is this artificial? I breath frequently. I can’t escape this oscillating beating.

(that is your heart, and that is my heart too)

I must keep running. I was just thrown into this life. I didn’t ask for this hunger. These desires won't let me be. Is the world itself is a cage? I have a key, but I cannot find the lock. Wolves aren’t the only animals that wear the clothes of man or sheep. Everything wears a disguise these days. My feelings, desires, the truth.

(understanding a toothache does not make the pain go away)

Yes, that's it, very, very close! I can smell the rustling woods, though the blood is draining from my face. I will not last long … I was captivated by this city, and now I must keep running.

(secrets live here, between only us, my dear, it’s only you and I in here and we are safe, it’s ok)

I can feel the sheep licking the morning dew off grass. I can smell the blood behind their skin. The cold, yes, the cold, I had almost forgotten it. The darkness where streetlights don’t exist. Yet this darkness is still golden. My brothers live here. Wild and free. I'm healthy, fresh, and bright. Have I becoming less wild? What did she recognize?

(you are not who you think you are)

I hear the chickens celebrating morning. They are so close and I am so hungry. The sky is slowly filling with a gentle, red glow. I cannot resist the hunger any longer. No fence can stop me. Yes, that's it, so very, very close. I will reflect the red sky with a red ground… They’re so scared, but I’ve never been so hungry. The universe is cruel, yet chickens taste so good!

(you have never felt more alive, have you)

The flurry of feathers. The yellows, the reds, oh how perfect and terrible it all is! My belly is full and I must beginning running again. I made a mess. The humans are mad. They’re yelling at me like I care to listen. I must keep running…

(come home, my dear, it’s not safe for you so far away)

The forest is so serene in the morning. The creatures of the day wake up as the creatures of the night become their shadows. I want to taste all the rivers in these woods. I want to walk until I find the sea and swim out into the ocean to taste whale blubber.

(did you know whales dream about flying through the clouds) 

Time does not exist here. I cannot hear the whispering radio signals any longer. This must be where falling stars lay down to rest. The moss folds over trees like a warm blanket. The sun is filling the world with long shadows. I hear distant barking. Are they barking at me?

(It’s already over)

The cars on the distant highway sound like the ocean. The dogs are on my heels. They must have my scent. Humans are with them. They are trying to find me. Fences, leashes, the shadows my nightmare. I must keep running...

(I won’t let you burn out like a failed star)

These filthy mutts. There is nothing too excruciating for me to wish upon them. Do they think I’m one of them? Would they dare think I heed the call of humans? She thought she recognized… She thought she recognized… Something.

(looking inside yourself is often a false mirror)

Shall this be where I die, by this rotten stump? Oh, they will tear me apart like I once tore so many things apart… But I will not surrender without a fight. The trance of battle, sweet blood in the air I breathe, this is why I was born!

(Don’t envy the dead, for they envy you)

Wait, no! This isn’t right! They don’t fear me? They think they recognize… they think they recognize... Something.

(you are falling back to me like an astronaut falls home)

… it was all over faster than a shooting star. No blood was shed, not even a drop. I screamed to the heavens and hells and heard only howling echoes in reply. The dogs, the people, they corralled me like a frightened pig. It seems running away from home was like running away from myself.
I guess I am a wolf-dog hybrid, not a wolf. 

I am a shiba inu.

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Advice from the Buddha

Hey Buddha I have come to seek your wisdom. I don’t know how to deal with this person in my life that I can’t stand. Seriously I fucking hate this guy.

“Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”

You know you’re right! If I want him to die I should get him to drink the poison. Thanks Buddha.

Sunday, October 25, 2015

Everloving green

I am building a little house
            in a vast and lovely forest.

Each day I gather wood
                        and add to it.

The fire inside
is always warm.

Beside that fire
is a little cage,
                        and I keep my heart there.

I made this house to keep my heart safe,
                        and it has never been happier.

I explore these woods like a hungry wolf.

The birds sing in a way
I’ve never before heard before,
and sometimes it’s sad enough to make me cry.

The clouds cast thousand-mile shadows
over rivers and skies,  
crisp as two perfect blue eyes.

The trees breathe life into me.

The moon kisses me as I sleep.

I built a little house
            in this vast and lovely forest.

Each day I gather wood
                        and add to it,

because I am the little house

                        and you are the forest.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Eyes closed

The shadow of a nightmare looms over me.

wherever I go,
I am too much in the sun.

With even
an attentive stare,
I can’t seem to see.

These dreams
stop following me.

Words are little coffins,
I can burry them there.

The cemetery
is just
a little bit beyond despair.

The trance, I think,
has always been there.

But at least,

I can forget it all 
with a simple blink.

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

I was in the fishbowl and you were looking at me

On a different day,
I felt like an untethered kite in wind.

As night fell,
I could not say,
if I were to freeze,
or melt,
in the thunderstorm.

I spent the daydreaming.
The sunset is too busy.
The full moon is a matter of time.

These memories,
I think,
are very fresh.
However, they will not last
in ink.

I feel the gentle wind of a fly’s wings.
 it is very cold.

And I can not get the taste of cobalt out of my mouth,
because I'm chasing the robot and the human mind,
flashing Polaroids of the soul,
whispering into webs,
so someone gets caught in the error
in words.

As we walk to the courtyard,
I point out the trees,
now, I hope you know,

because they will reduce their leaves.

Wednesday, October 7, 2015


The old rich man whispered into his grandson’s ear,
“I’ve had many friends
and even more enemies.
I’ve fought with my fists
fought with my words
and though I’ve lost many times
I've won when it mattered.

Now I have 4 houses
my own plane
my own golf course, a whole 18 holes,
12 cars, each more pricey than the last, and
enough money to feed a small country for years.

I’ve fucked golden women
on golden beaches
turned those beaches black with oil
and had 4 wives to boot

but you, little Jimmy,
you will inherit non of this.

You shall inherit the wasteland.”

Thursday, October 1, 2015

curl up very small.

I hear gunshot music.
I don’t want
to cage you up like a bird.

                        My wife is sleep,
                        My mistress is dreams.
                        (I haven’t seen you in years)
                        But I been cheatin on you, babe
                        with late nights
                        and alarm clocks.

I don’t want
to be your nightingale song

                        (sometimes I still dream of you)
            I know where you are
                        I swim in silk pillows                                   
                        (in the day I can hardly recall your face)
                        the end of
                        my falling sky

Poets write about birds because they want to fly far away

            if it makes you feel better,

            curl up small.

Monday, July 6, 2015

Galling Beauty

-a poem in one act-

Character list: MADMAN, a madman
                         DEMON, a soulstealer from the underworld
                         BEAUTY, the incarnation of beauty itself
                         DEATH, the fourth horseman
                         PASSERBY, a man on the street
Scene I
A scenic overlook at dusk. A tempestuous noise of thunder and lighting is heard. Enter MADMAN
            Oh sun, though you do leave me now, you mark
            this day with a red sky, like so many
            sweet lips, and flames, and wine, which have
            already passed, beyond the horizon of this,
            our final kiss.

a bird flies aloft a gust of cold wind and the dusk fades to black

Scene II
A fine candlelit restaurant. DEMON and BEAUTY are seated at a table for two as waiters and busboys bustle behind them

            Like, I’m telling you, she was totally, like, jealous.
            Probably because I’m the incarnation of beauty itself,
            and she’s just like, ‘some bitch’.

            That is all well and good, but may we return the conversation at hand?
            You wish to trade to me your soul so that you will become yet more beautiful? 
            An interesting arrangement indeed.

            Oh, I don’t want to think about that now. Can’t we just have dessert?
            And maybe take a walk?

a glass of wine is spilled on BEAUTY’s lovely white dress, and it falls, broken, to the ground

Scene III
A scenic overlook at midnight. The moon has reached its apex
            Oh moon, you laugh at me! How can this be fair?
            You are so full and bright and here I stand, waning for years.
            When they call me insane they must at least say I am a lunatic,
            for ‘twas you that drove me mad and ‘tis only you I am howling at.

Enter: BEAUTY and DEMON who walk by and pay him no mind

            For the love of Lucifer may we please discus our arrangement?!

            But wait, I didn’t even, like, tell you the best part. So Jessica ordered a grande half-cafĂ© dirty               caramel chai, and I was like ‘what the eff!? That’s my favorite drink!’ and then she was like,              'oh my god whatever!’ and…

(interrupting) DEMON yells in monstrous agony and massive bat wings rip through the back of his fine Alexander-Amosu-Vanquish-II tuxedo

            I cannot suffer another moment, the burning lake is like a beach in Hawaii compared                           to this! Finalize our deal and take here my hand. You shall give me
            your soul and live your life truly beautiful hereafter!

BEAUTY (crying)
            Ok I’m sorry… We can do it now…

Her tears fall onto her stained white dress and turn into intricate blue snowflakes

            My darling, don’t you know the most perfect beauty is nothing more than wind blowing                       through the trees and warm rain drops on ripe cherries?
            It is the fire in your eyes and the pumping of red paint in your heart.

BEAUTY (crying)
            I like cherries. 

            Enough, the deal is struck!

DEMON grabs BEAUTY’s hand and wraps her in his wings and they are soon engulfed in a swarm of black winged beasts
In a few moments the swarm clears. DEMON no longer resembles anything like a human. He is covered in black horns and eerie red smoke. BEAUTY has been transformed into a large and breathtaking bonsai tree


            The fuck?

            Here I’ve been, trembling like a leaf fearful of the autumn winds.
            I screamed at the night, the endless shadows to no avail.
            But come forth specter, I fear you no longer!

Enter: DEATH


            Hey guys what’s up?

DEATH places his hand on PASSERBY’s shoulder who then immediately collapses to the ground.


            Whoops my bad, sorry man... Oh shit dude is that a bonsai tree?! I’m allergic!!

DEATH sneezes massively and the sounds of all the damned in hell cried out with it. MADMAN falls to the ground. BEAUTY (now a bonsai tree) withers to dust. DEMON dissolves into a swarm of black spiders

            Gosh darnit I did it again.

Death vanishes and the moon continues to shine. Somewhere far away the snow falls on a nightingale’s cold wings. And yet he still sings

Curtains close.


you will always find me in your dreams
naked and mad I will scream at you
it's a dream
it's a dream
it's a dream

but we aren't in your dream
we are in mine
and I am yelling
wake up
wake up
wake up
I don't want to die
let's find the magic door
let's make a map of heaven

and when the smoke clears
you will wake up in my arms
and I will say
it's a dream
it's a dream
it's a dream

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Taylor Swift, the Reaper of Souls

Taylor Swift woke up in her big comfortable bed with the warm morning light on her cheeks and the sound of bird chirps ringing softly behind her window. The only thing she hated more than the sun was the sound of bird chirps.
            She got up in a rage, closed the blinds and began gently humming to drown the birds out. Taylor covered herself in a fine silk robe and made her way through the long halls of her old, rather poorly lit mansion.
            Once in the kitchen she prepared her favorite breakfast of cow’s blood and milk. Normally one of her servants would have done this for her, but today they were gone. Today was special.
            Recently Taylor had acquired the embodiment of her desires. The old Delapore Estate had a very long and dark history. Shunned by the locals of the countryside, the mansion had come to be commonly known as the, “Black House”. In total at least 100 people have died there from reasons ranging from suicide to being devoured by a swarm of rats. The Delapore family line was extinguished in their own estate after a culmination of family plots and pure madness turned into a bloody fight to the death between brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, sons, aunts, uncles, and servants. Before that, in the darker corners of history it was supposedly an ancient and forbidden ritual site for pagans. The pagans were ultimately put to death by the Romans; and their idols and stone altars were turned mostly into rubble. But something primordial and truly evil seemed to linger there to this very day.
            Taylor Swift, after years of research ultimately resolved to buy the property and live there for a time, hoping to better understand the dark energy of that place and to harness it for herself.
            She had dabbled in dark magic. In many ways it was the key to her success. She didn’t sing songs, she casted spells. But she had only scratched the surface of the dark arts, and those little tastes had tantalized her greatly. What she hoped to perform here was quite ambitious and she feared it could even be her own undoing. But she couldn’t turn back now. The voices in the night called to her. They sang to her the words she would later sing herself.
           There was no way she couldn’t go through with it. Power was all she truly desired in this world.
            She knew this house held something great and terrible and today was the day that she would look in its eyes and it would look back into hers.
            She wiped the bloody milk from her lips, but they stayed red as ripe cherries. She hadn’t worn makeup in weeks or bothered bathing regularly since the house was too old and dis-repaired for running water, but she was as lovely as ever. The house, she thought, was giving her an odd power. She was positively radiant in fact. The dusty walls of her gothic mansion glowed when she walked by as if lit by faint candlelight.
            She loved this house since the first time she saw it. “The Black House” she loved the ring to it.
            Her lips were plump and the perfect sharp shade of red. She was brimming with energy. She walked through the halls and brushed her fingers through the cobwebs.
The stories of this house alone would be enough to drive someone mad.

            She went back into her room and began to dress for the fine occasion. Underneath she wore purple lingerie and black nylon stockings. She also saved her finest dress, one that she never got to wear in public. She acquired the dress from a mysterious merchant in the Far East city known as Johor Baru. It was sown with the finest gossamer silk from the webs of various spiders considered only more dangerous than they are rare. It was then dyed red with the blood of lambs sacrificed during a red moon ritual and intricate black skulls were then added with ancient ink recovered from the tomb of Solomon. But the shoes were her favorite piece of them all. They were red heels that curved into sharp hook-like blades.  She was dressed to kill. Her eyes were as blue as the crystal sky. Her hair was as golden as the Holy Grail. She made her way to the basement.
            There were endless stairs in the Black House. Some led to dead ends and traps, but they never fooled her. She could feel the power glowing deep in the foundation and she knew the perfect path to the very bottom, the red room.
            First there was a basement. Beneath that, there was a sub-basement. In a dark and somewhat obstructed corner there was a false wall that led to the upper catacombs. All in all there were three layers of catacombs. The upper catacombs contained bones of the somewhat recently deceased. It was very orderly, each set of bones was gently placed in a coffin and each grave was distinctly labeled. The middle catacombs got a little messier. The bones were gathered into piles and they were often broken and jumbled. There were names carved on the walls, but it was impossible to tell which bones belonged to them. A few of them even seemed to be animal bones. The lower catacombs became very narrow. It contained the oldest bones and by far the most. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all made of nothing but bones. They were organized into various patterns and some even had ancient runes painted or carved into them. Bellow that was yet another floor that opened up into a large, naturally formed cave. At one point in time this room served very well as an amphitheater of sorts, but it was in no condition for that today. Rubble from the ancient site was scattered all about and blocked everything but a narrow path that emitted a faint glow. Then finally, after one more set of stairs, Taylor swift made her way to the 7th and final floor, the red room. It was hard to tell if the stonewalls were already crimson or if the color came from the slow lava flows deeper down the chamber. Similar to the previous floor, the red room was a rather large grotto that probably once fit many people. The lava came from two small holes in the wall and then flowed into a circle around the grand altar table.
            Taylor Swift smiled with a row of sharp teeth when she saw the victim of her great sacrifice waiting ever so patiently. He was just how she left him, strapped upside-down to an iron cross. It was none other than George Clooney.
            “You’re a monster Taylor Swift!” George Clooney screamed.
            “Nice to see you, where’ve you been? I could show you incredible things… Magic, madness, heaven, sin.” Taylor replied.
            “You’ll never get away with this!”
            “Oh Georgy but I will,” she laughed, “no one knows where you are, and even if they did, it’s already too late for you. Can’t you hear your bell tolling?”
            “Did something terrible happen to you? You always seemed like such a sweet girl, Taylor.”
            “You know that’s a good question, Georgy. The cold hard truth is that I have always been this way. The very moment I was born something truly dark was born with me. But its funny, you know, it may have stayed dormant if it wasn’t for him.
            “Who Kanye? Taylor come on that’s just the way he is, don’t take it so personal.”
            “I’m not just talking about the night he humiliated me in front of everyone. That bastard has been a thorn in my side for years.”
            “Then why don’t you kill him instead of me?”
            “Oh Georgy, it’s not that simple. Kanye knows I’m out to get him. You, on the other hand were unsuspecting and innocent as a ripe little spring flower. Plus you’re one of the only people with the blood I ne...”
             She was interrupted by the loud bang as the chamber doors burst open and Miley Cyrus stumbled in.
            “Damnit Miley, you’re late.” Taylor yelled.
            Miley stumbled over with the stupor of a drunk, she was mumbling incoherently.            
            “Miley what did I say about acting like such a crazy bitch in public?! You want them to catch on to what we are doing?”
            Miley screamed back with a broken and raw voice, “THE VOICES, OH THE VOICES, THEY WONT LET ME BE!”
            “Shut up and get over here. I didn’t teach you the black art of pop songs for you to snap on me now.”
            Miley responded with a sharp and haunting laughter that only the truly insane posses, as if crying in pain and screaming out in ecstasy at the same time.
            She stumbled towards the altar where her dark lord, Taylor Swift and the helpless George Clooney awaited.
            “Did you at least bring what I told you?” Taylor asked.
            “Yes, my mistress. Black tar from the pits of the undying, the ceremonial blade of Montezuma, and the skull of non other than Joan of Arc.”
            “Bring them closer, let me see.”
            Taylor inspected the three mythical items. George studied the jagged and cruel blade with strained and fearful eyes.
            “Please Taylor,” he begged, “please I’ll do anything. I’ll even help you get a better sacrifice. Brad would work, right? I could even get you Kanye.”
            “Georgy baby, you should know begging will get you nowhere. Don’t make me cut out that tongue of yours. It would be a waste of some of that precious blood.”
            She looked back at Miley.
            “You’ve done well.”
            She placed the skull on the altar, opened the ceramic jar of black tar and began slowly pouring it on the altar. She lifted the twisted, cruel blade and took a pause.
            “Tell me Miley, where exactly did you find this blade? Was it where the legends foretold, surrounded by thorns and beasts in the deepest, darkest part of the jungle?”
            “Aye mistress, 30 days and 31 nights I searched. I found the fabled blade in a lost pyramid where the trees are so tall and thick that the light of the sun and moon has never graced it. I received this from the temple guardian.” She revealed her shoulder which had the deep and raw gash marks of a large, wicked claw.
            “Why are you lying to me Miley?”
            “I owe my mistress all I have. I would never betray you.”
            “Your eyes betray you Miley. The tongue can twist the truth but the eyes, never. Perhaps you are already lost to me. Show me the real blade, Miley.”
            Miley screamed like a banshee in labor and pulled a second blade, one that looked like a massive claw from an even more massive talon. The hilt was crested in gold and rubies. She lunged at Taylor. Taylor laughed and side-stepped the attack. George Clooney looked on helplessly.
            The fight went back and forth through the lava filled room. Miley fought like a rabid beast, lashing out with fierce and unpredictable attacks. Taylor, on the other hand, moved around like a silken shadow, weaving and dodging with ease.
            Miley landed one wayward slash that nicked Taylor’s belly and cut her fine dress. This threw her into a deep rage and in one lighting fast motion Taylor faked a back-hand slice just to perform a flawless round house kick, driving her blade-like-high-heel deep into the side of Miley’s ribs. Miley gasped and fell to the ground in a heap. Taylor picked the dagger up and examined it with fire burning in her beautiful eyes.
              “Yes, this is the blade I need, the talon of Quetzalcoatl. Why did we have to do this the hard way Miley?”
            She threw the fake blade to where Miley laid bleeding and struggling for breath. Taylor knew she had punctured a lung.
            “You ruined my dress. For that, you shall die slow.”
            She turned to George Clooney. He was sweating and on the verge of tears. She knelt down and ruffled his hair.
            “Don’t worry Georgy you’ll die quickly. Just wait a little bit longer.”
            She took the talon-blade and lifted it in the air. She smiled with sharp teeth and began to whisper.
            George wondered what language it was as she began to repeat the chant louder and faster. Soon he realized that the lava was flowing out at a faster and faster rate and yet it also seemed like the room was growing dimmer, as if the light itself was being sapped and drained and turned into darkness.
            In a flash Taylor stopped chanting and held her hands in front of her eyes to shield them from the blinding light. She hissed like a snake as Kanye West, the holy paladin, emerged from the light, adorned in beautiful silver amour and holding a great sword seemingly made from one massive diamond.
            “Yo, imma let you finish… actually no I’m not, cuz that’s wack ass dark magic you doin Taylor Swift, damn! Let Clooney go!”
            “KANYE! I should have known you’d be here to spoil this for me! But you’re too late this time.”
            She raised the knife and brought it down again onto the tar-covered skull. It burst like a firework, then in the blink of an eye, before the sparks even cleared, she plunged the twisted blade deep into George Clooney’s heart. With George’s last gasp the lava began to pour out even fast than before. Kanye held out his glowing sword but the darkness engulfed everything. The lava turned darker and darker until it wasn’t even faintly red anymore. The shadows swarmed around Taylor like a plague of black locusts, spiders, snakes, and rats and in all the chaos the only sound to be heard was Taylor’s lovely singing voice. Haunting and beautiful like a dark angel, she sang crystal clear notes. Kanye slashed at the shadows with the radiant blade, trying desperately to walk towards her and the altar, but she was right, it was already too late.
            The shadows began to dissipate and the room glowed again with red lava. Taylor stood over her altar. Her lovely dress had grown bits of horns and blades and black onyx plates. With a valiant battle cry, Kanye charged at her, his holy blade clutched firmly in both hands. The holy light burned bright again and it seemed to propel him as it was scattered and refracted by his beautiful silver armor. Taylor met his first blow with the cursed dagger and for a moment they remained there like that, eye to eye, as if frozen in time.
            Taylor smiled and let out a wicked laugh. With a fine finesse she twirled her blade, hitting Kanye’s blade with just a little tap. The crystal blade began to vibrate. He stepped back in horror, trying to keep control of it as it vibrated more and more violently.
            “Don’t you see Kanye? I’ve already won.” She let out another wicked laugh as his holy sword began to give way and crack.
            “Noooooooo,” Kanye screamed as his blade shattered into a hundred little shards of light that were soon engulfed in the swirling darkness.
            Quick as lightening Taylor threw her dagger and in its brief flight it seemed to take the black shadowy figure of a hawk. The blade dug deep into Kanye’s silver amour, through flesh and bone and heart and back out the other side. His lifeless body fell to the ground with the heavy metallic thud of metal hitting rock.
            Taylor smiled again. She took a handful of the remaining tar from the pits of the undying and walked to where Miley was still writhing in a mixture of pain and ecstasy. Taylor smeared the tar over the wound in Miley’s side and soon it began to smoke and bubble. Taylor looked down at her.
            “Get up. I knew you would try to betray me, but I think you’ve learned your lesson. Get that fabulous French hairdresser on the phone. The Grammys are in a few days and I want to look good. They will weep blood from their eyes and scream out in terrible agony as they look upon the beauty of Taylor Swift, the reaper of souls.”

Disclaimer: All names used in this story are purely coincidental and in no way represent any real people or events.