Terminal
Tied to a world Gridlocked inside Distant dreams Tease my hollow mind To cut through mundane life Yet flounder in the deep Of a barren canyon Paved by bores thirsting reprieve Squabbling in infectious fiends Floating in induced subduction Feeds an endless greed Feeds my worthless being At times I wonder What naive sense lacking wonder Instead I'm shrouded in distant dreams There is no other
Submitted by Pestilence — Jun 21, 2026
Take a pew The kettle is roaring and so are you You sir, the man with the twisted face You’re welcome to stay a while The clocks are frozen over now My eyes are more open Then life before The sweat it pours Seeping through the cracks in the wooden floor Into the hell below Don’t even mention the war My blood work declines Time to go to sleep Time to numb the carving
Submitted by Pestilence — Jun 21, 2026
Welcome my succubus Come in warm my bones Milk your fears condensed To entropy I ingest A pained floral disguise – come flay me alive Rinse and repeat with those fetish hands Built on broken bodies we marry emotions in lunacy Dabble in black phlegm like Neanderthals… And fuck every hole till it gapes And in the negative space we once danced In your spiralling insanity We could never resist seduction The art of chicanery Flay me alive Rinse and repeat Fuck every hole till it gapes Chicanery
Submitted by Pestilence — Jun 21, 2026
Diving into deeper wounds Building a new identity Immersed in the prejudice Growing and growing a feral child This fucking utter bitter taste My skin painted in porcelain I drag myself against the bitumen once more And through the reeking decay To live in your wake Your derelict anal shelter To taste your contempt And the melting of your face
Submitted by Pestilence — Jun 21, 2026
Time rests in stillness It weighs yet levitates Laments in my sickness It’s so scarce others negate Bearing the black cells Their lab rat coined body and soul My valiant struggle towards death Shadows baneful regrets I toll And in my last minute breath I realise Life, death, it’s no play to set stage No news feed, rat race or lottery Fearful barriers to downstage (Too late) to learn the simple line ‘To suffer not suppress’ Pain signifies Insipid being undressed So pause in my passing And grasp what I should have known Feeble triumphs mean nothing When we all die alone
Submitted by Pestilence — Jun 21, 2026