come and this will come and this will be and he was venerated
for dreaming, as i f his dreams was true dreams o f a true future;
m y nightmares are true dreams o f a true future. I’m not alone;
though I can’t find them; in the dark raped girls wander;
smashing drunks; sometimes someone sets one on fire; I see
the flames; I smell the carcass; the raped have stopped being
kind, generally speaking, though it’s still a secret. I personally
have done the following. I have blown up several rape
emporiums. I don’t have bombs or explosives but I cannot be
stopped. I steal a car; I back it into the rape emporium when it’s
deserted; I make a fuse to the gas tank; I light the fuse; the
whole thing blows; it’s simple, if a bit extravagant. Any man
will follow any feminine looking thing down any dark alley;
I’ve always wanted to see a man beaten to a shit bloody pulp
with a high-heeled shoe stuffed up his mouth, sort o f the pig
with the apple; it would be good to put him on a serving plate
but yo u ’d need good silver. Y o u ’re the piece o f ass; he’s
invulnerable, o f course; it’s his right, to come after you; so if
he follow s you and you have the urge to smash him to death
he’s asked for it, hasn’t he? I mean, he actually did ask for it.
The arm y o f raped ghosts got together and we marched, we
marched, we marched in Tim es Square and the Tenderloin
and Soho; we marched; everyw here there’s neon w e’ve
marched; we visit the slave auctions; we have the names o f the
pimps, addresses, photos, telephone numbers, social security
numbers; I plaster their neighborhoods with pictures o f them;
I say they are pimps who slaughter wom en for fun and money;
I say he’s at your P . T . A ., he’s with your children; I pursue
him; the army o f raped ghosts stays on his tail; we drive him
out. They hide; they run. One day the women will burn down
Tim es Square; I’ve seen it in m y mind; I know; it’s in flames.
The women will come out o f their houses from all over and
they will riot and they will burn it down, raze it to the ground,
it will be bare cement; and we will execute the pimps. N o
woman will ever be hurt there again; ever; again; it is a simple
fact. I threw blood all over their weaponry; their whips; their
chains; their spiked dildos; their leashes; I have buckets o f
blood, nurses give it to me, raped nurses; and I cover
everything, the slave clothes, the bikinis, the nighties, the
garter belts, and the things they tie you down with and the
things they stick up you and the things they hurt you with,
nipple clips and piercing things; I drench them in blood; I
make them blood-soaked, as is a w om an’s life; I think over
time I will engage in a new art, painting their world blood red
as they have painted mine; simple self-expression, with a
political leaning but neither right nor left per se, the anti-rape
series it will be called, with real life as the canvas; and I will try
