The Poetry of Obsession

Bloody Led Zeppelin, that’s who.

Bloody Led Zeppelin, that’s who.

I want to be consumed

I crave utter absorption 

I want to make love to it

I want to be swallowed by this heavy wall of dissonant sound oozing from the box

The inexorable mess of intertwining cables 

Jammed into fuzz pedals & phasers 

Rings so metallic and so


Stumbling, fumbling, my car don’t start

Ripping the strings off my bad guitar

Breaking the face of screaming amp

In dreams I am 

Falling down the jagged jaw of a coal black serpent

And it’s wholly unsettling, but once you 

Let go

The ride is so smooth 


Now I’m lost

Now I’m shattered beyond repair 

But it feels like the cosmic safety of an orgasm

~The poetry of obsession~

I am singing

But really I am howling

Mama I can make myself scream just like amp!

This is my worship

This is devotion

This is pure

This is raw

This is rapture

Light leaks through my darkness

But who tainted the name of darkness?

I call this freedom

I guess I’m just

making love to myself

High priestess, hi priestess, high

So fucking high