Naked Lunch, by William S. Burroughs
I recently brought up Naked Lunch
in a conversation about apocalyptic literature. Not surprisingly I got "dystopia" thrown back at me.
Burroughs and his clan of Johnson's fear total control and demoralization more than anything; life is not worth living under those conditions. Interzone and the surrounding territories operate on vast hierarchies of control, and most everyone suffers as a result.
With the assistance of a few instigators, vying castes are either gobbled up (sometimes in tandem) or transformed into creatures that exhibit insect-like obedience. This occurs in an almost entirely unisex world where the only reproduction to speak of is achieved through the replication of control addicts who'll probably just speed up the arrival to total control.
I think a lot of people overlook Naked Lunch
as apocalyptic simply because the above is illustrated as a process
toward the point of no return instead of a single event.