Mercy (91 page)

an iron bar, and if someone goes past it it don’t give, you

choke, you vom it, you can’t breathe, and if he goes past it with

a big penis he stretches muscles that can’t be stretched and he

pushes your throat out to where it can’t be pushed out, as if the

outsides tore open so there was holes so it could expand so the

penis could go through, yo u ’d rather have a surgeon drill holes

in the sides o f your throat than have him push it down, the

pain will push you down to hell, near death, to coma, to the

screamless scream, an agony, no voice, a ripped muscle,

shreds swim m ing in blood in your throat, thin ribbons o f

muscle soaking up blood. But Linda smiles, and the camera

doesn’t let up, and the penis is big, it comes out so we can see

how big it is in case we forgot and it goes down, her throat

stretches like a snake eating an alligator or some boa constrictor with a small animal in it and the penis pushes hard to the bottom, it’s in her neck by now bumping around her

shoulders; again and again; and I’m crying m yself near to

death; the men are rubbing and moaning and ejaculating and

someone’s offering me money and I’m sitting there crying

near to death for the girl; because I don’t know where the

blood is; but I know there’s blood; somewhere Linda’s shed

blood and there’s pieces o f her floating around in it; Linda.

They do all the things to her; glass in her vagina; from the

front; from behind; all the things; and it’s all big jokes and big

moaning, the phony moans, ooh and aah and more and

harder, stupid, false moans; and you think these men are crazy

to think this is a woman moaning in sex; and then there’s this

guy with the w orld’s biggest penis and he fucks her throat and

she’s in love with him because he’s got this giant penis so he

satisfies her, at last, completely, a romance, he fucks her

throat, he is a cold creep, a sheet o f ice descends over the

screen, he fucks her throat; he’s evil, even for these men who

do these things to women in films; who will do anything; to

anyone; present her to him; put her there; lights, camera,

action; roll her over; stick it there or there or there; yeah, she’s

tied up like a trussed pig; he says darling and sticks it in.

There’s one decision, just one; and I have to make it; are we

humans or not; the girls under glass and I or not. If we are not

then there’s these creatures kept properly under glass because

w ho’d want them loose and the bruises on them or what you

stick in them doesn’t matter and they smile because they are

sincere, this under-glass creature smiles when you hurt it, and

you get to use them; and, logically, you get to use the five

infants too, w hy not, and this girl from Camden too, w hy not;

because w e’re apples with maggots too, w hy not. M aybe this

girl Linda really likes it; except there’s this iron bar in your

throat and nothing pushes past it without a destruction o f

some sort, this or that; or w hy don’t they use machine guns or

trees or they will, they just haven’t yet, h o w ’d they get that

Linda girl to do it? O r if w e’re humans; if we are; the fire’s got

m y name on it; at last, m y name’s spelled out in the fire and it is

beckoning to me; because they are tormenting us, pure and

simple, these men are tormenting us, they just do it, as if we

are so much trash for where they want to stick it and it is

simple in the end and they all get to live no matter what harm

they do or if we hurt or how much, all these guys live, they do;

face it; you can take some actual person and mess her body up

so bad it’s all deformed out o f its real form and you can put

things up her and in her and you can hurt her, shred her, burn

her, tortures that are done like roping her breasts, and it’s

okay, even funny, even if they do it to babies or even if they

beat you or even i f they put things in you or no matter what

they do, it’s over and tom orrow comes and they go on and on

and on and they don’t get stopped, no one stops them; and

people ju st walk by the girls under glass; or just ignore the

infants who grow ed up, the suicidal infants who can’t breathe

but are trying to talk; or the women who got beat; no one

stops them; it’s true, they don’t get stopped; and it’s true,

though not recognized, that you do got to stop them, like stop

the War, or stop slavery; you have to stop them; whatever’s

necessary; because it’s a crisis because they are tormenting us; I

gave m y uncle cancer but it’s too late, too slow, and you don’t

know who they are, the particular ones; and even if there’s

laws by the time they have hurt you you are too dirty for the

law; the law needs clean ones but they dirty you up so the law

w o n ’t take you; there’s no crimes they committed that are

crimes in the general perception because we don’t count as to

crimes, as I have discovered time and time again as I try to

think i f what he did that hurt me so bad was a crime to anyone

or was anything you could tell someone about so they would

care; for you; about you; so you was human. But if he did it to

you, you know him; I know; this Linda knows; the infants

know; the day comes; we know; each one o f them has one o f

us who knows; at least one; maybe dozens; but at least one.

When the Buddhists were burning themselves you couldn’t

convince anyone anything was wrong in Vietnam; they

couldn’t see it; they saw the fire; and you couldn’t forget the

fire; and I’m convinced that the fire made the light to see by; so

later, we saw. N o w there’s nothing w rong either; nothing

nobody can see; each day all these thousands o f people, men

and women, walk past the women under glass, the specimens,

and they don’t see nothing wrong, they don’t see no human o f

any sort or that it’s wrong that our kind are under glass,

painted, bloated cadavers for sex with spread legs, eyes open,

glassy, staring like the dead; smiling; painted lips; purple;

lynched or pissed on; or on our knees; I will die to get her o ff

her knees; sperm covering us like puke; and w e’re embalmed,

a psychotic’s canvas; eventually fucked, in any orifice; someday they’ll do the sockets o f the eyes. It’s the church to our pain; a religion o f hate with many places to pray; a liturgy o f

invasion; they worship here, the men,
Hot Girls
is Michael-

angelo’s
David\ Lesbian Gang Bang
is Tintoretto; it’s Venice

and Rom e and Jerusalem and Mecca, too; all the art; everything sacred; with pilgrims; the service, how I injured her and

came; the ancient masses, how I made a perfect penetration;

the ordinary prayers, I felt her up, I stuck it in, she screamed, I

ran; this is the church here, they worship here, a secular sadism

where w e’re made flat and dead and displayed under glass,

fifty cents a feel for a live one in a real cage, behind the movies

are the places where they keep the live ones they caught, you

pay money, you touch it; you pay more money; it touches

you; you pay more money; you can hurt it bad i f you pay