No Cure for Death

They came and went, the warning signs. The canary was dust, but the mine was running on double time. Pulled down the alarms, tore out the break lines. Gag reflex override. Eyes sewn shut / mouths open wide. Relax the throat and let it slide, cold comforts of patriotic lies. Genuflect for power. They’re lining up to cower. For a seat at the master’s feet, they’ll swallow yesterday’s unthinkable. So was it good? Was it even any good while it lasted? One plague less is not the end of it all, another house of cards born to fall. And what passes for eulogy when they chose to let the lifeline bleed until the last light blinked out and the well ran dry?

Submitted by The Void — Apr 25, 2025

They put the wires, put the wires to my head - and all the needles they jumped. “It won’t shut off, it won’t shut off, around the clock” they said, “How do you live like this?” We’ve got something just for that. Fix you up in no time flat. Patience, patient, take your rest. Just one catch, some strings attached, but we can sort it out. Rest of your days, a Lithium haze, so don’t you spit it out. We’ve got one to wake you up. One to put you down. One for the side effects, and one to bring you around from the darkened room, the narcotic cocoon we built just for you. Taking to the medicine.

Submitted by Infernal Flame — Apr 25, 2025

Come down off the cross / you dead-hearted frauds. Default to your script, to your scripture - preaching life and worshipping death. Legislate to dominate, because your mantra’s got nothing left. I saw the light - a black hole of selective conscience. All bodies were yours (said the Lord) to blame, shame, crush and control. Live from a pulpit, congress or court. Life, what about it? There’s death in your heart - and you don’t give a fuck. We know what you do, when they make it out of the womb the wrong colour, sex or gender. Wrong class, opinion or culture. Cut down / at every turn. Snuffed out / with sanctity to burn. Crocodile prayers, carried to full term and beyond. Dig a grave for the hypothetical. Loss of inventory. Loss of capital. Save your fraudulent tears for the living, you who build whole worlds on the backs of the dead.

Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 25, 2025

Dragged down into an escapist mirage. Hostage to hallucinations. Dead lights play on my compulsions. We used to live in the light. Now we’re swallowed up by shadows. And truth is nothing but a corpse for the vultures. Is this all you’re worth - dopamine through a dead nerve? Collapsed like a spent vein, a payload of diminished returns. Worldview on a wire. Data sick and sleep deprived. Taunted with truths just out of reach. Haunted by proof kept under lock and key. The flesh is a memory blinking out, suspect and subjective. Our currency is calamity. We keep you sick, confused and dependent. Never be well no more. You’ll never be well no more. Waking dream, arrested sanity, eyes glazed over, no hand at the wheel. Welcome to the new Forever.

Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 25, 2025

Captive investments under the gun. Livestock under the warden’s thumb. Watched over by machines of no love or grace, keeping out the peace. Five hundred years and counting. Swapped out your chains for bars. Emancipation was bad for business. Return the order, recoup the losses. Slavery it never ended. New World, it never began. Rerouted back to the cage. Blood money changes hands every step of the way. Locked into dead end cycles. Profiled and fingerprinted. Rerouted back to the cage. The original theme - captivity for profit. Master and slave / owner and object. Plantations for assembly lines, dressed up and modernized. Can you see the stars through the iron bars tonight?

Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 25, 2025

Divisive game, no end in sight. Talk in circles day and night. Semantic antics, why pretend? My enemy’s enemy isn’t my friend. When you’re wrong you’re still right. There’s no time left for self-defeat. Because someone’s laughing, and something’s growing while we stand here splitting hairs. Privilege masked by noble causes. Accountability, what’s your process? You won the contest, collect your prize - the rest of us cleaning up the mess you left behind (what’s one more time?) - because you won’t be around to hold you to account. The Liberal Arts, they got your mind all messed up. You think I’m asking permission to fights we never stopped fighting. You’re conquered. Divided. Delusional.

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 25, 2025

Wiped. Gutted. A city deleted. They handed the keys to the density creeps, now it’s all on the menu and they’re wiping it clean. Every inch commandeered. No vacancy for the unsightly here. Overwritten. Sterilized. Smeared out before your eyes. All-consuming wrecking ball of affluence demands this house. Your history is a teardown. Someone’s project. Broken ground.

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 25, 2025

Hollowed out. Followed Out. Contain the stray. Paradigm undermines. Reining in the ones that got away. Blood green bait and switch, and they’re buying it. Bolt gun to the same head. Same blood on the factory floor. Death and ethics under one roof. Old money protecting the hoard. The new choice, it’s a sick trap. Change thwarted, the order survives. Reinserted back in your path. Shape shifter, got your number. You’ve been followed here by everything you thought you’d left behind. Your choice, hand it over and we’ve got no problem here. Pulling old strings with new product lines. Ingredients or realities? Ideals or vanity? True refusal or a cheap guilt release? We still got a fucking problem here.

Submitted by Cyberwaste — Apr 25, 2025

And the worm it turned, for the ones that wore it best. Became the chorus with convincing faces I couldn’t pull off now or then. And now you say “you think you’re better than me?” No, I don’t think of you at all. I think back on the sureness of youth when you think you can speak for all your tomorrows. But the brave words, they were right about all the traps, all the lies. The trip wires in the years ahead that we were sure to survive. And then you put away these childish things. Now all the old cliches hold true - so where are you? Jumped from the highest horse when the praise died down and the crown dispersed. They gave you rope, you made a noose called Time.

Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 25, 2025

I’ll be your Judas, lined up on the wall. I’ll be the wing man taking the fall. I’ll be your realist, pummelled to dust. I’ll be your Judas thrown under the bus. The hated one to break the news that there’s only two rooms in your Father’s house, both filled like a fountain with expired wishful thoughts. It’s not your hell or heaven to cast me to, to promise or threaten. For mine is the void, the Kingdom of Nothing. As above, so below. Both sides of the curtain. All malice and power and scraps for the faithful. You can swallow crosses to the hilt, swallow narratives greased up with guilt - but you can’t pray your way clear of the gnawing doubt. So I’ll be your Judas, wrecking the shot. Excised from the final cut. Written out of Glory. The cynic at the gates that any god worth their salt could appreciate. I’ll be your Judas. You’re going to need some realist.

Submitted by Infernal Flame — Apr 25, 2025