letter to ted bundy

ted, if you had a sister, she would be beyond your fleshy ways, far above the small taints that is flesh marred or taken to bits: torture not release (from sleep cycles and daycares and classes skipped and lessons learned).

ted, if you had a sister, she'd play the other guns, a piano on human souls fingers between them and wrenching not the lives but the wills. i have her image in my mind.

ted, if you had a sister, she'd be so much more troublesome thean you were and her marrings would be quiet, invisible. they would be the arching of eyebrows, the placing of heads in hands, the sorrow of decades lived since knowing her.

ted, if you had a sister, she would understand the small parts better than you did: the parts that go unimagined, unavenged.

ted, in the science fictions story sides of myself i imagine her on trial for the demoralization of generations.

ted, i keep thinking about your crimes (your a sick bastard) like the crimes of men, are outward leaning and obvious: rape, physical depravity, pain-infliction, grissly murders would and sometimes do pale in comparison to the horrors of the permenant valley of anguish a woman (the bad ones) inflict on men daily.

ted, i know you know what i'm saying: men are rotten, women are sinister. sometimes. (except for the right ones, you know what i mean, the good ones: the female equivalents of your opposite.)

ted, that science fiction thing i said, is a dream i have of science bending in and finding ways to count emotional turmoil and lashing out with justice for it, giving the brudened ones their little bits of peace.

ted, if they could ever do that, the whole world really would be blind, and i know (you proved it) that it wouldn't stop the vileness people do to each other (like you: the physicals. like you sister: the motionals.)

ted, if you had a sister, everyone has met her.

2004-06-25 | 1:25 p.m.
0 comments so far

previousnext

background