witches at black masses

the children of chaos seek order
the children of order seek chaos
we all seek equilibrium
but the balance is tipped
and we cannot seem to
keep our footing
on these slopes
of these mountains
with no peaks

we hear the murmurs of
another cold war meant
to distract us from our decay
with the fire they play but
the matches are thermonuclear
and the grasses are a dull shade
of jade d

Tags: relevant

wanton albinos found fornicating lascivious eels

whet the wheel of my wanting
all will bleed for my blade and
for the children made orphans
feed them to the Christians for the
lions have had their fill of massacre and
eternal lives

Is it Thursday already?!

Where the hell is everybody?


"Don’t judge me by my shell, judge me by my chicken."

from “le poop”, by purplemonkeysexgod69 © 2014

the effect of those affected with affectations is effervescent

celebrating the birthdays
of dead celebrities
to celebrate
the death of celebrity

i burn your selfie
in effigy

everything is coming up
genetically modified

but i am one gallon
of bleach short
of cleansing your

the aliens sent us their
Jane Goodall and we
nailed her to the cross

mainly because she was black
and was telling us how to be
good Buddhists

it is a good thing that
we have
to protect us from
the Ebola virus because

science is for sinners

physics is for players

for every action there
is an opposite and equal

i thrust in you

thrust in me

You cannot change the past
but the past can change you.

I write letters to my future self
and lie about the present.

(Source: jegibbs)

the music’s timing undefined


For weeks now I’ve been thinking about scales. The scale of sleeps. The sound of octaves of consciousness dropping out at the bottom and the time it takes to move up and down the days of a life of lifetimes. 

The way small animals that don’t live very long still have to contend with the same number of hours in each day as humans do. A whole life in three years or less if you’re a rat, still less than that for most insects, barely more for a toddler. Something miserable in between those spans and a human lifetime if you’re a dog or a cat. Lots of trees and some other creatures live even longer than people.

But for all creatures, the planet spins the same. Their night dark as long as my night, their days bending the same stretch of sun away as mine. The seasoning of time in a year. 

I am preoccupied, too, by the scale of accumulation. How much longer is a ten-minute wait to a two year old who has only lived through 784 nights compared to my own tally of over 17,000 sleeps. As the insignificance of ten minutes confronts me so does the changing rate of the time that is left, when compared to what’s passed in the past. 

When I was five and six years old I used to be consumed with the nonchalant attitude the grownups had toward Christmas and birthday celebrations. My horror was only compounded when I figured out that it had taken only thirty-some odd seasons for my parents to grow so jaded. It seemed to me, clearly, that even a total as large as eighty Christmas celebrations in a lifetime could not possibly be enough to make it routine. And here I am, twenty-years an atheist in my forties, shunning pine trees and wrapping paper with equal vehemence. Leaving the candles off my cake as if my remaining years are a dry forest in danger of catching fire. 

I guess my biggest burning question is how we can even agree on anything as abstract as a definition for what constitutes life. What arrogance we assume in comparing everything to us. We can’t even keep decent track of our planet spinning and waltzing around the sun. We are so uneven, unmeasured. What a crazy unkempt cacophony of a symphony it would be if anything even remotely like a human was in charge of keeping time. 



there aren’t any
names for what she
feels today 
no words for the quiet
echos or the angry
and so he calls her
tepid disco 

"These quotes can be so fucking huge and annoying."
"Now I want a jelly doughnut."

Time is an illusion, ink on paper, purplemonkeysexgod69, © 2014

Time is an illusion, ink on paper, purplemonkeysexgod69, © 2014