Sunday, January 11, 2009

Violence in the Playground

I was standing on the grass in the schoolyard staring at the long building in front of me. The excitement was intense, very much a sexual kind of excitement. No one else was out yet but any minute, people would begin to percolate out of those doors and I would get what I wanted. I would experience the joy and pleasure and release. I trembled with excitement at the prospect. I could hardly wait. Some weakling would come out and they would be alone or I would follow them until they were alone. The details didn't matter because I would find a way to get what I wanted. I was big and powerful and they were weak. I could feel the power and strength in my muscles and I was proud of it. I would go up the them and pound my fist into their brain. I would punch and kick them and feel their bones break and feel my fists sink into their flesh. I would pound their face and their big white grapeskin eyes until they popped. I would jam my fingers into their flabby skin until blood spurted out and bright red bruises bloomed and they would scream and writhe until they could no longer move. I could hardly wait.

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