Do you know what I am?

A siren--
Destined to tip the boat,
Pull you off,
And watch you sink:
Drowning.

I want the attention
And the glory
Of being the unbroken one.

But watching you fall
Makes me shiver beneath my feathers.

Instead I let you swim for the shore.

Your words are
           Laced with lead,
                       And I sink further
                                        Into the abyss of my heart
                                                                 The more you drape over me...

I once set sail to a shipwreck and no one’s heard back from me yet.

Whether or not this storm can be weathered, my torn sails and bruised masts will be seen fighting the futile.
And whether or not I can come back from this, I won’t dock at familiar shores for a while.

This salty shame-filled seawater may as well be the blood that flows so reluctantly through my veins because inside it all feels the same and at least then I could give the ocean some of this blame.

I’m still made of rotten wood and rusted nails,
I just got better at sinking.

But I’m tired of throwing buckets of salt water over my head hoping I don’t slip,
So maybe I’ll take a break from going down with the ship.

So maybe I can take note from the tide and change.
Because I'm so ******* tired of trying to figure out how I wound up on this page.

Blame it on bad luck, blame it on love, blame it on god,  blame it on the price of a new heart, blame it on a bad start, blame it on the ******* weather,
But even as the water rises, I can still hear the echoing lament of a would-be sailor,
“I swear I can be better.”

“As I walked down the road alone, I began to think, What if this is the wrong way, am I about to sink?
I saw the light in front of me, and suddently it began to gain.
Is it the light in the end of the tunnel, or maybe it’s just a train?”

- Staun

Wake up laughing
cackle into the kitchen
9:15 a.m. on Sunday
cop-outs couched in cups of coffee
          Sofa King Redundant
Lock the door but no one's coming
          I'm the LORD OF ALL I SURVEY!

Survey says the pilot's out
sink is full and
blinds are drawn.
It smells like sweat and silence
and a mostly empty fridge.

"Everything the light touches is yours!"
Outstanding power bill
          bank statements
               unreconciled
unwashed clothes
and unsent thank-you notes.
Shrink-wrapped books on how to cope.

Maybe I'll ask for a raise...