Your Personal Science Experiment

A Poem by Joel A Doetsch

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 impatiently
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 a*s

You always did have a good sense of humor