Ship of Theseus

Gargoyles of history beckoning Authorities of night The absolute opposition of thought and being The reduction to nothing by judgment and hand Immolated on the world’s altar Insects devouring one another on an atom of mud Festivals of atonement A game with ideas The word always dies where the claim of some reality is total

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 25, 2025

I cannot countenance the thought Of broken glass remaining broken glass The experience of repetition as death Memories once shifting grown solid Dismantling the past piece by piece Self-contempt and hatred for the lost self The full force of time’s depth’s horror Cast back to the chain of desires Nailed to the cross of the ruined past Regression and nullification Greed of time and being

Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 25, 2025

The knot of the braid The caves and meadows of the flesh The hopelessness at the heart of lust Grief like the growing vine My hopes in you have made me sick Heron stillness in summer water Lopped logs rotting in the moss Altars without offerings Gardens sown with dust

Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 25, 2025

Wolves of water Might of blind force Living movement of sunlight Currents churning The reflecting edges of the shale Soft rains pierce hard marble Heat seeps through the silver There is only mixing and dissociation Nothing remains What is the life that I have chosen? The wave-shattered hull Theseus in the labyrinth Hunched in a cave of broken myths

Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 25, 2025

The force which shapes blades on a hill of sickness The grafted skin and clinging cerements The overwhelming indifference of nature The procession of each successive moment The appeal for pity resonating in the void The black-lipped wound that mouths oblivion Machinery that renders debt infinite

Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 25, 2025

Fixed to decay Knotted by habit The rituals of bound bodies The dull resonance that vibrates through these days The afternoon’s meshes Pale clotted light I tremble in nightmares of silence Lonely nights in empty houses The night’s slow poison Aimless years from nothingness to nothingness again Kneeling before a void Brought into being in order to suffer New and dreadful liberty Pain and wrath are the singers The great work is a stone

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 25, 2025