Metal

Too much death
Gory and macabre,
The sound rises
Swirling in a fury
Winding tightly
About my chest

The guitar riffs
Are menacing footsteps
Of doom
That come angling through
The dark dark passages

The miasma is at hand
The stench of the underworld
Rises from the subterranean fires
of his venal mind
That Satanic beast
That lurks
Behind reason.

The sound rages
Echoing through my skull,
Now swirling about my neck,
Tightening and twisting
Release is possible only through
Bloodletting.
The Valkyries shriek
Behind my eyes
They will burst through
Humours
And I shall see no more
I will be no more....