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JA Doetsch Mar 2012
You spot her on the dance floor
Her milky skin reflects the glowing
light of green lasers.  Her eyes are
closed, as she absorbs the beat. The
bass travels across the floor and up
through her legs as she tilts her
head up in ecstasy.

She is in a world all her own. She
drowns out the crowd, within her
own frequency she moves her feet
to the beat that the DJ creates. Her
hips sway, creating vacuums of
energy and drawing people closer
to her essence.

She sweats  away her feelings of
insecurity, loneliness, and regret.
The acid on her tongue does not
corrode her skin, though it does
seem to melt away her inhibitions.  
Maybe her clothes, if she's in the mood

She knows all the boys are watching
her. Maybe if she's lucky, there's a man
as well. Someone who can attune
himself to her rhythm and grasp
her complexity. There will be sweet
synchronization as they create sin
waves in between the sheets.

This is her release
Tomorrow
She will be a hair stylist
She will be a nurse
She will be a lawyer

But tonight?

She's alive
JA Doetsch Feb 2012
I'm sitting here in this cold steel chair
I'm sitting here in this dim and dank room
My hands are tied behind my back
        with barbed wire.

You're standing over me with a rusted scalpel
You've cut open my chest
You are examining its contents

You make an incision into my heart
You stand back and watch
as blood spurts onto the grungy wall,
          creating sanguine portraits of you
                  in various states of undress.

                          I always told you I was talented.

You don't even notice.  Figures.

You scrawl notes into a battered notebook
about my state of mind.  You're trying to
figure out the formula or the equation to
explain my nature in a way you can grasp.

You smile that porcelain smile
You tell me you'll need to run
        just a few more tests
              
as you pull out a syringe
that would make Nikki Sixx cringe.

Look at that, I made a clever rhyme for you.

Of course, you don't notice.  You're busy
jamming that monstrosity into my neck.

You're injecting yourself into me so that
I won't ever be rid of you.  It's a black tar
that now fills my bloodstream.

You could have been a bit more gentle

My hands tug at the wire
causing blood to eagerly
spill to the floor

I pass out.

When I wake up,
    I'm naked and cold and alone
        I'm on the side of the highway
    I'm trying to hitch a ride
        as far away from you as I can.

You sewed a twenty to my ***

You always did have a good sense of humor
Work in Progress
JA Doetsch Feb 2012
Eyes Closed*        

My hands on your hips
   Your toes on their tips
A collision of lips

Our tongues      
slip

into that oh-so familiar place
JA Doetsch Feb 2012
Dear 27 year old me

This is you when you were 12.

I know that you're probably
busy counting your 100 billion
dollars or hanging out with
John Travolta or something,
but hopefully you find time
to read this.

I'm sure you are now
the CEO of some huge company
and have a huge mansion on
the coast of France or something.

You're probably dating a super model
and have servants to wait on you hand
and foot.  Maybe even your own theme
park.  Who knows?  I mean even without
the theme park, you can't complain.

I'm sure some mornings when
you get into your flying car
and zoom off to your office
on the Moon, you wonder
how you got here.  You
wonder if you deserve to
be where you are today.

I just wanted to tell you
don't worry about that crap

Just keep being awesome.

See you in 15 years.

----------


Dear 12 year old me.

Stop writing stupid letters
and study.  You are not
helping our cause at the
moment.

Sincerely
15 years late, 100 billion short
It was my Birthday two days ago.  I wondered what I would have told myself when I was 12.
JA Doetsch Feb 2012
left foot
right foot
left foot
left foot.

Face.

******.
JA Doetsch Feb 2012
We waltz about the room,
so completely unaware
of the impending doom
that is our love affair

Every step that's taken
leaves behind a crack
in our weak foundation.
We're never looking back

We deftly dance and twirl
'round the holes that we create
that are always being filled
by the things we cannot say

Our dance becomes difficult, now
as we struggle to find our rhythm
the dance floor is so much smaller, now
we begin to feel a schism

The floor is all but gone my dear,
we're standing face to face
confusion as to how we got here
to this tiny place.

The darkness of all the things
that we thought we could ignore
is silently surrounding
we're oblivious no more

I was looking so deep into your eyes
I was so thoroughly engrossed
that I didn't stop to realize
I was dancing with a ghost
JA Doetsch Feb 2012
Look!

See the multitude of orbs
of varying
              sizes
                   shapes
                       and colors

There are beads as well.
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