Family Tomb

A dying mother is always in need Hair down, boy in her arms, eternally In pain and in need of beauty Suffering for the chance to breed the free He who is free must learn to crush the free The weakness, the freedom, of spiritual destiny A moribund father exhales love as he bleeds Barren head, lesions, afflicted internally His arms still carry the burdening weight Of passing on failure, breeding deceit His fingers still fold, his nails are all cracked Easy to look to the heavens when forced on your back Died long before Better off sterile than lording over a sick race Mother Earth and Father God breed only disgrace Pray for new vacancy On your knees at your grave Pass on the bloodline Slave of a slave of a slave of a slave Perpetuated dream of a knave Beautiful heir, here are your heirlooms Pass down the darkness Pass down the illness Pass down resentment Pass down regret Pass down the appetite Pass down the ruinous Pass down the laughter Pass down the love Ancient father, progenitor of reverie Worldly mother, microcosm elementary Disaffected children, loneliness in their biology Fate sold to them, victims of modernity From the cell to the human To the colony to the country To the planet to the galaxy To the cosmos and beyond We see only our father Only our mother And we know we've been betrayed We are too small to betray

Submitted by MetalElf — Apr 26, 2025

Bring it to me The kindness that stings and burns in the shade The belief that sinks into the stomach of love The fraud, the decay, of life Let me imagine it can smile Then let me poison it from beneath Please allow me to seethe and to wallow in the thoughts of malice Please allow me to seethe and to worship the promises of malice Please allow me to seethe and to wallow in the thoughts of malice Please allow me to seethe and to worship the promises of malice Here, my thoughts are allowed to be callous Here, my thoughts are allowed to be callous Here, my thoughts are allowed to be callous Here, my thoughts are allowed to be callous I am no longer delicate I am strength personified and I crave defeat It has come to this No longer intricate I am an animal amongst animals awaiting retreat It has always been It has come to this It has always been It has come to this Family mansion for this life Family tomb for the next Prisons of the flesh Mass graves for city streets Dust flesh falls the best Dying in our creche Family mansion for this life Family tomb for the next Family mansion for this life Family tomb for the next Prisons of the flesh

Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 26, 2025

I have to confess this I cannot blame anyone for my suffering. There are no triggers that I am aware of, therefore I must be to blame. I am to blame. It torments me, the very thought of awareness, and the subsistence of my species demands that I attack. So I attack myself or I attack the outside. I attack myself or I attack the outside. I've become attached to emotion, no matter the consequence and those close to me, who share with me, can too become victims. I am a victim as you are a victim. Our commonality exists in that we suffer. Racked with guilt, feel the wretchedness. Rejection now anxiety, helplessness now anger or apathy. Feasting torment, create the wretchedness. Repudiation a strengthening delusion and a solitary path but one that gives me power. Racked with guilt. I have to again confess that with this knowledge I have been blessed. There are no short cuts through this walk of shame, only talking faces and self obsessed names. I have to again confess that with this knowledge I have been blessed. Martyrs suffer all the same. I will not suffer like who I became

Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Apr 26, 2025

Ascending to darkness and waiting, never again to fall into the light of man I raise my head and clench my fists, I make a path divine The shadows laugh, writhe, and scream They taunt me from the past I've set the traps and caught my prey, sacrificed from within Devotion bleeds, lies suffering, as I attempt to make this task my last Injure eternity Murder time Mutilate evolution Spoil all, undermine For the rebirth of the aggrieved Where desolation is destiny Ascending to darkness and waiting, never again apprehensive of the twilight I adjust my eyes and clear my mind, anointed with no sight There are inner forms and gnashing teeth But never is there unease Foresaw an end, made my amends, sacrificed from inside Devoutness feeds, leech enemy, do I have time for this one last task? Cripple immortality The distance should die Disfigure the future Maim all, undermine For the rebirth of the aggrieved Where desolation is destiny For renewal of halcyon scorn Where depletion is divine decree A closing thought in an indifferent realm An entity forever underwhelmed Desolation is destiny Depletion is divine decree Here exists all suffering Consciousness through eternity A shedding of skin, anxious reaction What right have you to abstraction? Consciousness through eternity Mass feint born of anxiety Depletion of natural energy Aided by spirituality I raise my head, I clench my fists, I make a path divine Hatred of self is reverence but too much time I've spent amongst the swine I cloister myself on the coldest of mountains I cloister myself in hellish winds I cloister myself in enlightening shadows Forever withdrawn within

Submitted by MetalElf — Apr 26, 2025

God is dead! Everything freezes Everything is already cold Tired of burning Sick to death of passions restrained Acting out, leaving scars, in praise of denial Shunning life, making life, in praise of the vile Worshiping, suffering, drinking the blood of pain Devoted to idolatry, one God with infinite infected brains There is something of memory There is something of choice We've been left with the remnants Shadows of a shadow's voice The rewards of worship never seen while worshiping God is dead! The infinite congeals Consciousness is already stagnant Faint with love Nervous demands to understand Rebelling against rebellion, while forcing a smile Hating life, creating life, making life worthwhile Bended knee, suffering, eating the flesh of bane Forcing out, through exhaustion, belief in the self and his reign We've been left with salvation Umbrage of our feigned rejoice The rewards of worship never seen while worshiping Unless they are seen by the dead eyes of a mouthpiece The bread being promised has turned to mold All promises from the sick gods, the meek, and the old There is cold, especially in the mountains Where calculated movements take aeons to affect Smaller consequences to larger appetites No gods, just the will to dissect The meaninglessness of life.

What dry terrain has been travelled To fix my eyes on the falling water To blink only when winds sear my eyes Only when tears drop and wander I desired a final solution Danced around my own proclivity If the wind took the Gods, their statues, their men Then, without force, it too will reap me Throw me in with the dry idols Traversed the cold, traversed the bright Obsessed over the luminary who denies his light Passed through the gates, passed through in chains For freedom-Death, the darkness of a starless night Traversed the cold, traversed the bright Passed through the gates, passed through in chains Across the sun, across volcanic ash Remains of the earth, ruins of the past The dry idols call my name Arid beneath the deluge I join them, but not to honor them To be where I belong Dead amongst the dead Gods In defiance of the living ones

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 26, 2025

Inspiration bestowed upon chaos by the ideas of chaos that move underneath. Undetected in belief, unknowable through attachment, and silenced by need. Our purpose, a purpose amongst the infinite, a colossal misjudgement. All we have to end our blessed suffering. Here, within, lies the illusion. The chance we've given to a future upon a horizon. Chasing the sunrise and arriving as it sets, no choice but to suffer the night. Suffer the night. Inspiration bestowed upon chaos by the ideas of chaos that move underneath. Undetected in belief, unknowable through attachment, and silenced by need. Our purpose, a purpose amongst the infinite, a colossal misjudgement. All we have to end our blessed suffering. Here, within, lies the illusion. The chance we've given to a future upon a horizon. Chasing the sunrise and arriving as it sets, no choice but to suffer the night. Cyclical disorientation, always looking for new consciousness. Consequential will. Giving it all for less. A map of the stars with no light to read, suffer the night with the right to perceive. Pushing out from within, living only to live, well fed and drowning in the driest of seas. Making our gods make us view them from our knees. Nothing can ever end our blessed suffering.

Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 26, 2025