AngelWitch

she's only 15
a woman's curves she has yet to possess

her pink heart earrings dangle
her pink watch reveals she's still a girl

her smile is tender
there is still light in her eyes

she smiles our way
desperately trying to be sexy

her arms and legs don't quite work together
she's on stage during an awkward stage

the chains she wears try to mask her innocence
the bar owners can not decide which fantasy to sell

there is a run in her black knee highs
her high healed boots are too big

she wears no make-up
her hair has not been curled

she daydreams and forgets where she is
alarmed, she looks around to see if anyone is watching

embarrassed, she catches my gaze
I smile at her, a smile that says "it's ok, I'm glad you had a momentary escape"

her songs are over, for the moment
she steps of the stage

she walks over to a mamasaun
she explains her trouble and pouts

she's only 15
a woman's curves she has yet to possess

Men have begun to pour in
drunkenness has approached

middle aged men with ponytails take a seat by the stage
identity crisis, grasping at days gone by

3 guys in their twenties try to appear confident and cool
they huddle together, in a booth next to me, and act like they "do this all the time"

2 business men walk in with a Thai girl they've already bought
She leads them to the top row and gives them a preview

An overweight man in his thirties, walks in with a "cowboy" hat he purchased on the street
His need for attention is apparent

a boy, just 18, with braces, a backpack and a school uniform stumbles in
he's high and searching for a release before heading home

A very short man, with bottle cap glasses, struggles to pull himself up into the booth
He lacks self-esteem and has come to pay for attention

Peppered hair, clean cut, distinguished-looking glasses and a wedding ring
no wife in sight, he calls a girl over, he barely says hello and his hands begin to wander

The music turns darker and lyrics-- "we are all zombies"-- repeat
the gyrating increases and so does the lust of men

the spiritual oppression is thick
my head feels like it is in a vice and someone is pushing my shoulders down with both hands

the witches and cauldrons of fire hanging from the ceiling are fake,
but the shrines of idols above the bar, incense burned, rituals performed, and lives being sacrificed are very real