​I’m sick of this fake, you-have-the-right-wait-nevermind shit.  This every-way-but-yours-is-right shit.  This you-can-do-it-but-not-near-us shit.  Fuck you.  Brilliance gets crushed every fucking day because it makes people UNCOMFORTABLE.  Well fuck your uncomfortable, and fuck your comfort zone, and fuck that sidelong look you give people when they say something you don’t fucking agree with. 

“Be yourself.” 

“You do you.”

So on.  So fucking forth. 

As long as it fits the parameters, right?  RIGHT?! 

See, people get really upset when your form of expression involves questioning the established order and leaving psychological fires in your wake.  A spark on the dry timber of this awful beige mentality I see everywhere.  Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yessss…..do what you want, what you will – do what makes you happy as long as it doesn’t make us THINK and it doesn’t make anybody UNCOMFORATABLE!  Because if one single motherfucker shifts awkwardly in their chair, or frowns, or lowers their eyes, we’re gonna burn you to the motherfucking ground! 
 
Does that sound about right?
 
Remember, kids.  You can rant for ever and ever if you lack content.  That’s why they never shut up and people cheer time and time again.  Simplicity.  Complacency.   The never-ending familiar march of bullshit shifting from one approved opinion to the next in an attempt to make things look like they were ever a choice to begin with
 
YOU CAN RANT FOREVER IF YOU DON’T SAY MUCH.
 
We here at Psycho Bunny Death Cult encourage expression that is uncomfortable, and expression that is true.  We want to see the bloody guts of what you’re feeling and the ugly truth of what you are, and if it makes us uncomfortable, we smile our big creepy monstrous smiles and polish our razor grins and watch from our freaky little corners and we are HAPPY.  It’s not a matter of being unaffected; we WANT to be affected.  We respect the process and the product whether that end result is for us or not.  We want YOU to get all that toxic nastiness out of you and onto a canvas or a notepad, onto your tablet, into a book; into tattoos or street performances or acting or any other beautiful way you can come up with to give your pain a voice.  Paint with your cat.  Rant about demonic forces in everyday life.  Throw raw meat and eggs at walls and look for Latin phrases in the trails of plasma that leak down.  Roll around in some paint.  Start or end a war.  Write a manifesto or a poem or both.  

DO WHAT MAKES YOU FUCKING HAPPY!

Make someone with an ugly beige soul uncomfortable today.  

​We love you.

They don’t want me to talk.

They don’t want anyone to talk.

They want silence and subservience and will tolerate no deviation from it.

The truth is condemned.  The truth makes people squirm like dying worms under the July sun.

This is how history is erased; how it evolves.  Rarely through new information, and often by what it is they choose to omit.

Who are “they”?

You know them.  The same THEM it always is.  They all look the same, and if they don’t, then you absolutely expected them too.  In my mind, they are represented with slack-jawed, hollow protest and weak points.  With bored eyes and a false sense of purpose.  They’re gonna holy roll you the fuck over like so many zealots have. They come with rolls of duct tape.  Ballgags if they’re kinky.  They shove socks in your mouth so you can only mumble, and hold them in with dirty rags.  They'll shove damn near anything down your throat if it stops the noise coming out of your mouth.  This is a home invasion thing, only for your morals and belief systems.  For the books you read as a kid and the points you have always held dear.  For your politics, your religion, everything.  This is how they take away what you love.  Your suffocation is not their concern.  They just want you to shut up. 

They do not want you to talk. 

They do not want US to talk.

(Talk anyway.)

Here’s the deal, and these motherfuckers will never understand it. 

You can’t change the past, so the best you can do is not deny it, and instead use it as a learning tool.  If you try to make the past unavailable, either to give the opportunity for it to repeat itself, or because it makes you uncomfortable, you’re scum.  Any scum, your pick.  The kind under dirty fingernails or around a drain.  Whatever kind of scum you prefer, but scum all the same.  They may do it in different ways.  They may shame you by telling you that your opinion is stupid.  They may tell you it’s impolite to talk about something.  They’ll make you feel weird and out of place.  They’ll berate you.  They’ll get really personal, digging in and trying to damage you through the things that make you who you are.  They will try to shatter your foundation, when all they want is for you to shut the fuck up. 

Truth is truth.  Truth is neutral.  Truth is what happened.  Truth is not a force of evil and we are not devils for refusing to forget what we were taught and what we have experienced.  What was once a standard part of the curriculum is now condemned because it isn’t pretty.  We live in a world where people kill each other, all the time, for a bevy of insignificant reasons.  I wish I knew how many hearts are broken a day.  I wish I had numbers for you regarding the existential horror that eats man alive every second.  The incidents that haunt tired eyes and the toxic emotional sludge that is so hard to express to any living thing.

So the fact that nightmares happened – still happen – is not surprising.  This is the world we live in.  No one should have to pretend that it’s any different than it really is.  Is there beauty in this world.?  Absolutely,  There is so much beauty that sometimes it hurts, but sometimes it’s scary.  Has been before and always will be.  We have kids saying the Holocaust is impossible.  That nothing could go that far.  We have kids who don’t know the Nazis existed in that capacity.  We have all these atrocities that humans are PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF, being actively forgotten for some temporary comfort and a world that they want to be so unbelievably sterile that nothing new can even grow. 

And if you don’t think that the really bad stories start with censorship, take a look at any horrible thing that has ever happened to any large group of people and you tell me how it started.  With mandatory silence, by degrees. 

Don’t let ‘em shut you up. 

If they shut you up, then they’ve won. 
 
They do not want you to talk. 

They do not want us to talk.

So fucking scream instead.  

Well.  World’s been busy, hasn’t it?
 
Not always a good thing, necessarily.  It’s a lot easier to work with the universe when it isn’t constantly trying to tear the rug out from under you while you desperately cling to anything (furniture; the curtains), trying not to touch the ground because it is LAVA NOW and you are FREAKING OUT.
 
Then, when you need help, people have the audacity to not know what to say, or to say the entirely wrong thing.  People – they, too, will not cooperate.  So between what seems an awful lot like bad luck, and the humans, sometimes you can end up pretty sure that you don’t stand a chance.  You may wake up with the feeling that you’re crawling out of a grave it’d be easier to stay down in for the duration of whatever horrifying imbalance is working itself out. 
 
I have some bad news.  This – this surreal nightmare, the bogged down feeling, the inability to connect, the weariness that penetrates your very bones…this is (unfortunately) where we achieve the most growth.  And no, no…I’m not trying to be an optimist, here.  This absolutely sucks.  It seems like everyone is exhausted and rapidly nearing the end of their rope, but I implore you to hold on even if that’s all you can do.  Let your hands become blistered.  Let your nails break off, but just hold on.
 
Because the weather changes.  Because we change.  And because this isn’t going to be forever.                  
 
All of my love, my darling Bunnies.