Good.
Spring has sprung In yellow plumes, it hangs Like a chromatic noose Blonde air, blue skies, blonde air, blue skies This is an insemination A heatwave blisters an early birth The mother, Grand Sultan A summer, renewed Amidst seasons askew (Amidst seasons askew) Shedding pedals (Shedding pedals) Like snakeskin (Like snakeskin) Snakeskin Strange fruit will grow, fall, and feed Driving us mad as it rots In the blazing gaze Piercing mother's shade Grand Sultan twists In the attention Evеr the beauty, evеr the burden Ever the conversation piece
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026
"Gather one and all! You're cordially invited To the spotlight on the stage!" The crowd begins to swell and sway Around the bed they've made us make With a want on every breath Mouths are spouting "More please! More please! More please!" It’s a growing chorus Of frantic, irrational need "Would you kindly play assistant in Strangling the life from us? Show your hands If you're willing, step right up and take Take a snare! Take a snare!" They're fashioned from Your expectations They fit around our necks Whispering to us, as we choke out "Thank you! Thank you! You're too kind!"
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026
Have we passed on from The glory of the gutter? Life, afterlife A literal ghost town Our exploits exorcised Like an apparition, lore to fiction Silhouette wraiths idling through latter-day stills Silhouette wraiths idling through latter-day stills Murmuring, "In memoriam" Murmuring, "In memoriam" Our bodies, just transient headstones Our bodies, just transient headstones A temperate death for the dead Or did we escape with our lives? The final girl, hiding and crying wild In the dailies of small town cinema-faire Nine lives to be lived out mild Oh, I want to live mild Smiling and waving goodbye To the ghost of the villain Relentlessly stalking The frames of our sequels Screaming, "You will never Catch me, catch me! Catch me, catch me!"
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026
"It's nothing personal" Sighed the ticking of time With a thieving gale My vexing hexes flit free "You won't need these Where you're going" Much to everyone's surprise, I go willingly "Oh, so happy to disappoint" I muttered, turned away, and ran Ran a distance measured in years Now the road sleeps, quiet as a grave It doesn't call, I can't hear it anyway Now the road sleeps, quiet as a grave Got busy living down a dead end street Dead in the best possible way All I hear are children at play Whilе laying my Sunday's to rest Too tied up to write this down Though I thought you should know I dеfinitely don't need to come back to this
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026
What songs will he sing? I sing him my songs, the songs my mother sang This is the refrain that has authored me The composition writes itself out From the hands of a flawed house It leads and drags in thematic dissonance With unhinged stoicism An earnestly contrived guiding hand Affectionately detached Ballad of the father that I am A caesura filling with love A nocturne of what I need to be better than Better than Better than I sing, sing the songs my mother sang I sing, sing the songs my mother sang I sing, sing the songs my mother sang I sing, sing the songs my mother sang I sing
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026
Child, it's 18 minutes till bedtime Today's a contagion, now I'm waxing these horns So, for your own good Drift till you dream wild Conjure the specter of a better me Tomorrow I'll have shaved My devil down to dust, my devil down to dust The tenebrous night will hide you away From the woeful creeping between the sun's rays Even when what's creeping is me
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026
"Daddy, what's cremation?" He said to me, misty eyed How am I supposed to reply? With a riddle? A white lie? Truth's hourglass falls a heavy grain I close my eyes And ponder loss Crafting what tomorrow's Grief deserves today "In the morning, we'll mourn our dead Because the seasons have had their say What made her will be as gone as God So we'll set what's left ablaze" Gather the dust in a handheld grave Like huckle bearers in a procession Ever fading from your mind as your tears dry Ever fading from your mind as your tears dry
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026
The Saturday sun is on the decline Easy as pie It’s yet another dead end soirée The children play as wild as what hides From the still lingering light We spend a lifetime in the end of that day Hoping our chatter will keep the dark away Cruel as time, the light retreats Locks us away, soothes us to sleep This lullaby, our shield We sing We sing We sing “Always a pleasure Hissed the snakes, from outside Always a pleasure We bathе in the day’s long light Our dead end will еndlessly strive For that sandlot kind of life But when the sun hides from sight Let the dusk tuck you in tight For the copperheads have the night.”
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026
Breathe in with a grin Breathe out with a sigh Raze your revenants, lamenting Blow them a kiss goodbye Breathe in with a grin Breathe out with a sigh Raze your revenants, lamenting Blow them a kiss goodbye
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026