Conduit

'The cursed is the mutant. The mutant. The enemy. Not only of the human race but of all the species God had decreed. The seed of the Devil within trying unflaggingly, eternally, to come to fruition in order that it might destroy the divine order and turn our land, the stronghold of God's will upon earth, into a lewd chaos like the fringes.' I can't recall a night like this. Now all has gone amiss. In the silence, there's no peace. Only fear that cannot cease. Don't tell me I'm alone in nothingness. In my mind an approaching shape calls me on again. With no hope I stumble on. I can only pray they were wrong. The Badlands loom ahead. Dark and unknown. Deep and wild. Driven out with no return. Deviation our only crime. Their time will come in its turn. Pride, hatred United into one. Nothing changes. A creed I've seen before. And now, in squalor, two brothers reap what they've sown. When, all of a sudden, silver threads begin to fall. [Watch thou for the mutant. The Devil is the father of Deviation. Keep pure the stock of the Lord. In purity our salvation. The norm is the will of God. Blessed is the norm.] Watch thou for the mutant! They descended from the sky. Slowly strangling all life. Beyond our darkest hope. They came. So far away. And changed our lives When they brought us home. Not our own. A memory from my childhood dreams. We live again!

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 25, 2025

Stillborn world. Growing strong, Nature's son. Who could dethrone him? The Feral King. Sweeping through the twilight of a dimming sky, Falling fire blinding the panic stricken eyes. Strikes with crashing thunder into his domain. Tearing all asunder. All that he knows is dead or dying. All he sees around him now is change. Lord no more. Empire turned to dust. Fear takes hold. Who are these strangers? What do they know? Where will they go? I must resist. Let them have their fires. Let them have their machines. Usurpers, thieves and liars, soon to choke on their greed. Vermin race. See the shame of your doom. I shall steal, silent, To where this began. Into my empire, Buried now by sand. There I'll wait. Sit in state. For my time, To come again. Buried deep in stasis, Poison from within. They could not expect this. Closer to the kill. I am one. Sire and son, Of the earth. My rebirth, Awaits. The Feral King.

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 25, 2025

Solar breath. A monument to excess, softly brushes my face. And burns too soon. Wounds on cue. Nothing to show. And yet, you know. Pride undone, The way is lost. One last time before we lay these ghosts to rest. Petrified and self exiled, I would throw myself into the sun. I am too sick, weak and tired, and I know the worst is to come. Under one unblinking eye, Cursed to live yet doomed to die, The universe, under its own weight contracts and folds into its final fate. What am I? I should have perished But I'm all alone now. All around me is void. And how could it be that all creation lies in me? For aeons I linger, Or maybe a fleeting moment. Something is building. Wonder and resentment. Deeper and deeper, I owe existence nothing. Mocking my fury, Creation takes root and explodes. I had the chance to create a perfect form. Devoid of malice. Of peace and beauty born. When all was silent, I could have stopped it all. But, in my anger, I only brought forth the storm again. The cycle begins. And as I fade my last thought is only regret.

Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 25, 2025

In depths that pull, Ageless, in the void before time. They come across an aged oak. Now, drawing close, Skinless fingers grip the trunk. The sleeper wakes. Dappled light throws silhouettes on a dilapidated wall. Through scattered leaves, the scent of an unwelcome dawn, fills the senses, drained of comfort, warmth and hope. And waking stupor, fades too soon. And she's alone again. A spectral form. A tale of loss to tell, Remains untold. When memory finally fades, what of the lost? If their voices cannot be heard, Alone they'll walk. And hunger for release. Gone, but not at peace. The lives that they once lived, Haunt them, still. What kind of cruelty awaits beyond the waking world? Illumination denied to chosen few. Uncomprehending. Without an ending. Purgatorial wounds never heal. For the whole of immemorial time that slides slowly by, they are hoping, without knowing why they cannot die.

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 25, 2025

In one enraptured host, beasts and men collide. Voices sullen, thoughts morose, they soon fall into line. Subdue my mortal anguish With vapid animals that feed on my decline. Where, now, is the prize, promised in our name? As far as I can tell, we've paid enough in shame. In tatters and voiceless, like cattle, Wait in line, patiently, for the cull. One more injustice and two more wounds to heal. A legacy of blood that oils tyrannic gears. Wear your shackles lightly. Live in fear of reprisal or pay with your life. Enough is enough. Life is more than toil and duress. Now, for better or worse With no loved ones to pay for my mistakes, I can focus and make good my escape. If I fail then I will not die in vain. Either way, I'll never follow again. Into the cold. Out of the fold. Under grey skies, I'll run 'til I die. Pursue my tracks. Follow my bleeding feet. A shot rings out. My final moments in verdant fields of green. At least I tried, and died alive. A peaceful smile etched on my face.

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 25, 2025