a desire to deface

hearken back
to the days of
lego-deconstruction
and
come help me
DESTROY stuff!
what is this pressure
inside me
that compels me to
take my pen
and
scribble-slash
over Dean Koontz's face
(and his little dog too);
to compromise the integrity
of the aluminum water bottle
with a sharp nail
and a high, deeply satisfying PONK;
to slam my fists against
the clay woman's breasts
'til she goes concave
(negative D cup)
and then slowly but
surely
smash her flatter than a cheap pizza;
to rip these paintings
into so much confetti,
and stab them against the wall
through the heart
with a million thumbtacks?

Would this de-creation
be art on its own?
or am I just
a momentary anarchist?