on the Nobility of Revenge (very intuitive and unedited draft)

I am willing to unleash my anger against the wrongness of the world, and I am willing to bestow violence upon the tyrannies and despotisms of it; like Durga, I am willing to punish the perpetrators of rape with the heinous offense of rape in a diabolical act of gruelling sarcasm, and by raping them until they bleed perhaps they shall commence to ponder newfound perspectives in between their sobbings! And indeed, I am willing to draw a veil of destructive dusk over the ugly day of this world so that a dawn of creative rebirth may emerge afresh therefrom; yes, I want to plunge over the world  as if it is a most bitter enemy: in anger I shall sustain myself; in anger I shall self-become. Terrorism is my crown and spire, and I worship the triumphal savagery of revenge, for revenge breeds a cycle of violence and there is a goddess of vengeance that has forevermore clots of blood stuck between her fanged teeth, and I love her, and her cycle spins eternally and out of control yet with stalwart balance through the centuries... but who am I to care for its absolvement! I have abdicated my throne of philanthropy, for I have become one in thirst of revenge, as if a vampire in dehydrating foreboding; who am I to care for the principles of utilitarianism, of righteousness, of moral purity, when someone whom I can smite the flesh of for grievous wrong-doing, is still alive and well? When the craving of revenge overcomes a person, nothing more is to be done but to enjoy the gruesome spectacle as if a great comedic play, or even as if some grotesque flash of divine but cruelly incomprehensible justice.