And so I shred.

I've weaved tapestries,    
painstakingly pieced together puzzles    
and patterns.    
Drew desire by its definition.    
   
But still, I couldn't put down my guitar    
the notes coming together simply so smooth    
they encircle me and echo    
an ever-clear concept of creation.    
   
I pull off to the 10th fret 3rd string    
and I fuckin' shred it.    
   
The struck notes, every hammer on    
and pull off echoed through the amp.    
I've sat here in my own stink for weeks,    
I just keep playing.    
   
Nothing is more satisfying to me    
than the ample rhythm of the stringed instrument.    
I finger her fretboard and finish    
but she isn't through with me yet.    
   
To the 3rd fret, 5th, pull off to the 4th    
and come around again for another shred.    
With a stiff upper lip, my tongue protruding of its    
own volition slightly sticking out of my lips    
   
I shred again.
   
Beside me towers a stack of CDs    
thrash, alternative, punk, heavy metal classics    
I feel a surge of excitement once I shred    
in and out of sections and choruses    

I personify dread
with every motherfuckin' note I shred.
   
I could never touch a woman again    
and feel just about as good,    
with a helluva lot less problems than you    
who are you to wave your finger?    
   
I'll be fingering fretboards    
so go ahead and    
stimulate your own clit    
I've got a g-string to hit.    

I shred again.
   
Now that the darkness has descended  
I give rise to the Monarch  
of the Kingdom of the Dead.  

I spider the fretboard
the notes merge into one
and split apart at my leisure.  
You ask for my love
all I have on offer
is a skull-fuck for your severed head.