​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.  

People talk about “weakness.”  Say things like, “You’re fucking pathetic,” to bring someone down, usually when that person is in a position that has already made them feel pretty terrible.  

They’ll say your coping mechanisms are weak; that you’re weak for dissociating; weak for crying. It’s a low blow.  A sucker punch.  It’s just fucking cheap. 

Fuck these people who believe life can only be taken straight, no chaser.

Fuck the hypocrites and the judgmental pricks.  Fuck the horse they rode in on.  Fuck the inevitability that they will one day need your help. 

You’re not weak, you’re dealing with what is thrown at you as best you can. 

Coping mechanisms mean that even though this is painful, you are dealing with it in whatever way you can.  Dissociation is what happens when something is too much and you experience a split with reality.  There are severe cases, of course.  There are times when these things are so out of our control it’s frightening, and fuck anyone who judges you for that, too. 

YOU know how you gotta get through this.  You know what it takes to get to the opposite shore.  Easier said than done, I know…but their opinion doesn’t matter. 

Harm no one, but take care of yourself, especially when the only criticism comes from an imbecile who hasn’t lived your life and has no valid points.  They can judge you.  They always can.  But you are not obligated to give

One.

Single.

Fuck.

Starve them slowly to death with your failure to react, and watch yourself bloom.  

- Mercy

The humans are flawed. 
 
They do great harm in groups, are easily swayed, and seek to belong to something, even if that something is horrible.
 
Still, I side with them, and always will.  Not because of the terrible things they can do but because of the rare exceptions that cast thin beams of light into the darkness, illuminating floating flecks of golden dust and reminding us that there is good out there.
 
Foolish though it may be, I side with the possibility of redemption; with the hope that we can and will do better.  I never want to be able to say, “I was right” about something as devastating as the absence of love and the squandering of potential.
 
I will burn to death, quietly, still hoping we turn this shit around.  

​Despite what they may tell you…the Devil you know is rarely better than the one you don’t. 
 
You can love something that gives you black eyes and broken feelings.
 
The hardest is when that damage comes from someone or something that should be protecting you. 
 
I think, sometimes, we know our abusers better than we know our friends. 
 
Regardless of the credentials they may boast, they cannot do what they’re doing to you.  You have every right to stop them.  You have every right to escape them, even if it is somewhat more complicated than just leaving.  You have the right to begin the process of becoming free, at any time you choose, for any reason.
 
Begin your liberation.  

I'm overdue to comment on the madness.  Apologies, darlings.  Forgive me. 

Now, listen.​

The seasons changed, and so did everything.
 
Midnight came on the equinox, and for some, brought a deep sense of dread.  Those who get sad in winter felt that little twinge in their stomach, the nervousness regarding things to come, wondering how bad it’s going to be this year.  For others, midnight was an unbelievable relief, bringing the change we’d been waiting for.  The air turned crisp and the world came into focus.  Things were suddenly more manageable.
 
If you are a person who fears what’s coming, I encourage you to be gentle with yourself.  Be kind.  Mind the words you speak about yourself and make sure they are not negative, even if you mean them in a joking fashion.  Sometimes the sensitive heart doesn’t understand a difference in tone or phrasing and just hears criticism.  Be sure to treat yourself as well as you treat your favorite person.  Do not be embarrassed if you need to find a safe person you can check in with if you become imbalanced or start to feel out of sorts -- it's good to have someone close to you who is aware of what's going on in your head.  It can be difficult to open up to people, but I assure you someone will be happy to help, and will be glad that you spoke up.  You are loved.  Let others help you.
 
If you are a person who is joyful to feel things shift, who is able to embrace the harvest and dive headlong into shadow work and Dark Nights of the Soul, then I welcome you to autumn and humbly invite you to join me in making this a memorable season, both personally and spiritually.  Be fearless, for this is your time of power, and to squander that with fear, hesitation, or procrastination is foolish. 

Use your surge of energy to help others as well as yourself, and please remember that kind words are never wasted.  
 
We’ve crossed over into the dark time, now.  Good or bad, a new leg of the journey has begin.  

Live well, and be happy.  



-- Sister Scarlett

​Move.
 
Let it start with a slow twitch of a finger, if you must.  Let it start with you blinking at the sky, or the floor.  Take a breath and feel the weight of the air in your lungs.  Begin to feel all the places you are sore, tracing the outline of invisible bruises with your dry fingertips.  Just because the others can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.  Pain is one of the most personal things we will ever experience.  When nothing else is our any longer, pain still belongs to us.
 
Did they dim your shine?  Extinguish your spark?  Listen to me:
 
Just because they killed you doesn’t mean it’s over.
 
Now, read that again.
 
Just because they killed you does not mean that this is over.
 
You are not done, here.
 
It is time to get up from whatever thing it was that broke you. 
 
Get up, darling.  Walk toward something new.
 
Find yourself, then find your way to us. 
 
And if when you get here, it feels like home…
 
Then stay.
 
Just stay.

You know what I see?  I see people suffering for absurd reasons. 
 
If you can even get past the basics, the root things like health, wellness, food, shelter – if you can even get those things squared away, then there’s a whole other list of shit to deal with.  There’s the fact that the world is falling apart, crumbling beneath our feet and falling into a bottomless chasm; falling so far beneath us that we can’t even hear the pieces hit the ground.  As we dangle there, our fingertips cramping, slipping, the nails breaking, the blood bubbling up and making the surface slick – there’s nothing to think about other than how this is it.  This is all we amounted to.  We fear that this is all that became of us.  We are afraid that there will never be another failure or success; we’ll never get another shot.  We’re here at what looks an awful lot like the end, and suddenly everything just seems like such a waste.  People feel like this every day, even if it isn’t in the literal sense.  People are hanging from these ledges over the promise of a horror they can’t quite identify.  People can spend their entire lives feeling like this, and it is a world of nightmares trapped inside an individual.  A wasteland that stretches on forever behind a defensive smile.  There is no screaming; no poetry.  Just quiet little monsters telling you that there is no value in the way you suffer.
 
If you can find beauty in nothing else, it is your absolute right to find it in the way that you suffer; in the way that you hurt.  Do not let them take away this small victory.  Do not let them extinguish your art.
 
People -- and the tragedy of their uninformed judgment -- are often the source of the evil in this world.  People who don’t understand.  The ones who refuse to think.  Do not listen to them.  Do not let them belittle what good you can find in this place.  Do not let them take away whatever it is that keeps you going.  Don’t let them have the reason – whatever it may be – that you manage to defy the odds and drag yourself back up, time and time again. 
 
Do not let these motherfuckers extinguish your joy. 
 
It is yours, more than anything ever has been or ever will be.  Yours.  Full stop.  It does not have to be explained to others.  You do not owe anyone in this world a single thing; not your attention, not your adoration, not an explanation, and certainly not your heart.  It is not invalid just because strangers cannot see it, feel it, or comprehend it.  Save it for those who understand it.  Save it for the ones who hold whatever tiny sliver you may give them and cherish it.  The ones who would never let harm befall it.  Save it for the ones who make you smile and the family that you choose; not for the devastating number of them who will fail you in the end; the ones who have been failing you from the very beginning.
 
And when it’s time, if you need a place to go; if you need people who see you, see through you, see into you, and are still happy to stare at the moon with you.  If you understand that you don’t need anyone, but want a place to exist.  If you come looking for a tribe.  If you want to walk into the open arms of a new Family, then come find us.  Come join us.
 
​
Come home.