Exhaust
Gonna have the last laugh Watching your last gasp Of failing atmosphere Drowning in red dust You’ll cough and rasp Exposed, you will know fear You’re not going to Mars Mars is coming here Saw you whistle past the failing crops The rolling blackouts and supply shocks And soar above the cordons So smug in your rarified air But accounting tricks fail before physics Your loopholes explode on their launchpads As oceans boil off into darkness They’re fleeing, they’re leaving you here Another sphere given to crimson While you jerked off to your childish vision Know when you swing from the gibbet This is what you deserve, o false pioneer
Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 25, 2025
I swear I’ve seen this bit before Beat and trope, reference and metaphor It’s that gyre widening It’s the reek of revision, gone with the wind It’s Sherman not hanging enough landed citizens So at last, Lost Cause hour can come ‘round again Rough beast, slow thighs, predictable At this late date, the reply is risible Conviction’s lack got us crackin’ wise And why not? It’s better to laugh than to cry Dart-smoking clowns Hound your house with garrotes Your quips all resolve At the end of their ropes In London, Marx joked: That’s a matter of course The first time’s a tragedy The second’s a farce
Submitted by The Void — Apr 25, 2025
They say If you can make it here You can make it anywhere But first you gotta find a way inside I got a shot at my crash spot And these sharp elbows So here we go Ripping up the turnpike Holland Tunnel’s a flood zone So the Verrazano I climb But the BQE crumbles ‘neath the Esplanade And I bail for the surface roads Axel cracks in a five-foot pothole I bug out and there are the cops Smirking at my illegal stop They snatch up the hoopty for the impound lot Pounding the pavement Shadowed by a hollow high-rise Into the subway, ducking the payment Tryna catch the train in time Three stops into the ride Some fuckface hits the emergency brake Screeching steel and curses bellowed I’m losing my shit so I break for the tunnels Splashing through raw sewage Past the rats and the hobos Sayin’ fuck, man I just wanna go home In the greatest city on Earth
Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 25, 2025
Our ammo’s rotting in the depot Still ready to blow in some youthful war While we play pickup with our sinews Don’t want no bodies keeping the score We’ve got strange pains They keep us fighting My scalped dreams went without a burial I keep’em reeking in my pockets Their weight reminds me I’m a deadbeat Whenever I reach for my wallet I’ve got strange pains And I can’t afford’em Call us obsessed, call us masochists We don’t need love, we’ll do it for less It always hurts and no one’s impressed But pain always bows to stubbornness
Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 25, 2025
It drains a man To stay on the road Wouldn’t have guessed This engine could still go No destination Just driving to drive I’m racking up mileage Waiting for that final Faded sign Engine light’s on Got the radio dimed Fumes in the tank And a ghost on the passenger side 10 and 2, I’m locked in Barely aware as the world whips by It’s just me and the asphalt now Me and that long white line Frame shakes Pistons grind Rolling debris in the rearview With those empty, bloodshot eyes Shocks come unwound In my paved mind I’m breaking down Gonna go, gonna go ‘til I’m totaled No respite at the end of this tunnel Just glare from a pair of headlights
Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 25, 2025
Gotta play the hand you’re dealt Even when the game’s fixed When the dealer smirks And something smells Gotta accept your lot A spot beyond the winners’ circle Lurker by the backdrop With prizes to stalk Your eyes pale slots You take your licks And kick the pricks Praying for another shot Next time, your luck will change Next time, you’re gonna get hot Belly to the greentop Again, you ante up With the last of your scratch With sweet thrills in your gut You count your cards And bet the lock But the house clocked you From the start To them, you’re just another mark And your type never takes the pot
Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 25, 2025
The game done changed Time was, that hit was clean Time was, you’d have won that rep You play both ways But you’ve lost a step Now you’re skipping practice Veteran rest On the couch with a sixer Washed mind, cooked flesh Now your number’s retired Your highlights go grainy Blindsided by headaches Fumbling names and dates Now the fans are deserting you Calling you dirty, you go blue In the face, spitting rage you can’t shake Smashing mouths that talk shit What they say is true Your brakes’ll be the first thing to quit Now your little girl sobs on A Football Life Into your faded jersey Saying “he used to hurt me” Been years since you laid hands on the wife But the hits keep popping from your own two fists Garbage time stats piling up in meaningless lists Now they find you blown out on opening day No one still believes you were molded from concrete The glory was fake, and you bit on the play Still waiting for fall to get back in the game
Submitted by johnmansley — Apr 25, 2025
Flop sweat In the pit of despair Straining to hold it together Through planned obsolescence Late-stage wear and tear No room for regret Down here at crush depth In a rear-guard action vs. death Year after year after year Nursing debts Subprime-fleshed futures Used glue when the wounds needed sutures The truth: it ain’t strange, I ain’t healed But I did what I did Don’t shed me a tear Stress test, stress test, stress test ‘Til something breaks Rest for what? Got no need to maintain While the ghosts of old blows Haunt the holes in my brain Duct tape clothes my bones Those cheap highs don’t hit the same The struggle is real The prize is chest tightness More worry, more pain Stress test, stress test, stress test ‘Til something breaks Pride keeps me alive And fear keeps me awake
Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 25, 2025
At last, it’s curtains for me Lay me low, sing me to sleep Where I belong: here on the scrap heap We’ve been through it all, my friends But let’s not go full maudlin Disposable loves recycle their ends My purpose served, your conscience clear There’s nothing left to extract here As trash, my passing gasp is mirth: I hope you got your money’s worth
Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 25, 2025
Quitting time again and I’m feeling sick There’s an open tab out there waiting for me With a case of the shakes You know it’s five o’clock somewhere You know it’s perdition, living in pain You know this was good enough for our fathers You know how to shoot’em and keep a straight face So come on down, man, we’ll knock back some rounds Get fucked up enough to forget our own names Oh, this grind again, it makes a man sick Ain’t a lick of hope in the day-to-day Need something to take the edge off I aim to get faded before the light fades Now let me raise a toast To the spirit of spirits, the body’s decay You’re not gonna heal, so go anesthetic And break that wax seal; this bottle’s on me Reeling and retching Sick in the sink Whose ass do I gotta kiss Around here to cop a drink? Fuck you, tryna to cut me off Oh, I’ve had enough? Is that what you think? Listen: if I wanna kill myself slow That’s my God-given right What moron would miss this hell? What’s the cure for a dead-end life? Now give me my goddamn medicine Fill up my cup It’s quitting time again for me So bottoms up
Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 25, 2025