Say Hello to Mr. Violence

Because within every man, there always exists an animal.


I dream of hurting you, your siblings, your parents and your dog. I’m not talking about things like insults, indiscretions or vitriolic little gossip behind your back; I’m talking about really fucking you up: smashing your face in, stomping a crater into it and then kicking your chest until it caves in. Don’t ask me why. It would be like asking me why I breathe.

Truth is I don’t even know you, and I’m hardly interested in changing that fact. Hell. More than likely, we’ll never even exchange looks; but in the unfortunate event that we did, I assure you you’d see one tough, wild and unhinged bastard.

You’d also walk away without a scratch, and that’s because above all else I am a coward. I could extensively –and ad nauseum- talk to you about the coma I’d leave you in whenever I decided to put my hands on you, but then you’d laugh after seeing me second-guess myself, or better yet, run away like a little punkass bitch. It’s not that I’m weak or afraid of pain. Simply put, I am corroded by the same sickness you are: lack of initiative and lack of balls. You and I are anchored down by a kind of fear so sneaky that it found a way to become widely acceptable: fear of consequence and fear of the unknown. So, whenever I think about crushing you, I’m going to find my supposed perfect strategy to do it far more exciting than what would have taken place in real life, where everything would have probably worked against me one way or another. What’s really funny is that I wouldn’t kill you, maim you or even rape you, so I don’t think I’m that crazy. Consider yourself fortunate.

But it’s a pity, since none of that is going to happen. Just because I can’t gather the stones to let my true nature take over. I’ve been domesticated just like you to follow rules and be afraid of everything: parents, the police, God. I’m a eunuch, a pussy, and in spite of all that, the fact that I accept this situation and real identity surely makes me a better person than you are.

Oh well. What can you do about it? Keep going down your boring stupid road and don’t look back, because as much as I’d like to really smash you, I’m letting you off in one piece; however, never forget that when the day dies and the flares of this fast city start to hum, in the shaky dreams that my frustrations have created, I’m going to rub that stupid smile off your goddamn face. Yours and that asshole’s, the one you may or may not have next to you right now.