creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, lost, Love, Poems, Poetry, Writings



Red lights devour the earthly silence,
crushed bits of half scribbled lyrics
lie all over the floor consumed by the unseen darkness.

the smell of the warm untouched beer disappears
as I hear someone scream with an agony and a common distaste
for this sinking society, for wars, for people,
on my speakers.

It is a gift sometimes
when after a shitty tiring day
you don’t have to scream your lungs
out, you don’t have to thrash things,
you don’t have to think of death:
someone records and does it for you.
You just have to listen.

I believe there is no god,
just a few men and women
who show us the death, without the fear
tickling our spine through their dark
melodies and works.

I live another new day,
I hide another terrible scream,
I switch to the next song.
I am a Metal-Head.




5 thoughts on “Metalhead

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