The Butcher Shop

I want to go to an adult cinema, dressed as a woman.
NO!
Not as a woman, as a charactature.
An object of expected male desire.

All the things men want AND expect,
the holes,
the openings,
the lipstick and torn flesh.

I want each one of them to HATE me!
To loath the fact I am here.
Mutual disease,
expunging psychosis upon skin.

I NEED to see their desire masked in hate.
Feel the frenzy of being fed upon.
Painful.
Uncomfortable,
Unsafe,
Worn,
Abused,
Destroyed.

And ultimately cleansed in a way I cannot understand.