everything is red in poetry

If you really think about it,
what’s more metal than leaf-peeping?
Driving far out in the country-side.
Observing the autumn.
“LET’S GET IN A CAR AND GO WATCH THE LEAVES DIE! IT’S SO BRUTAL!”
“LET’S GET OUT AND CRUNCH AROUND THE CORPSES OF LEAVES!”
“LET’S BEAR WITNESS TO THE DEATHS OF THE TREES!”
“THE SUN IS LESS AND LESS A LITTLE MORE EACH DAY!”
“MAYBE WE’LL BUY A PUMPKIN TO DISEMBOWEL ALONG THE WAY!”
“MAYBE WE’LL PURCHASE APPLES CRUSHED TO GIVE UP THEIR BLOOD!”
“JUMP IN A PILE OF LEAF CORPSES TOGETHER FOR WE ARE IN LOVE!”
“WE’LL GET SOME PANCAKES AND DROWN THEM IN TREE VITAL FLUIDS!”
“WE’LL PUT ON CLOAKS AND HAND OUT FOOD JUST LIKE WE’RE DRUIDS!”
It’s hard-core is really all that I’m saying.
It is like a day trip of the darkest blackest metal.
Driving out into the hills.
To look at the dead things.
Before they rot away.
Brutal.