I hear the wailing cries that call
They’re calling out to me
They call to draw the sailors down
To the shore at the bottom of the sea.

No one can ever resist their call
And so I fear I must go
If ever I find my way back home
Would I even really know.

The wailing calls grow louder
My captain lashed me to the mast
But the calls are strong and they took him
And I don’t know if I can last.

It matters not if you stop listening
For they find their way into your head
You just have to get away and onto dry land
Or they’ll pull you down to the sea bed.

At last I see dry land is yonder
It is almost within my reach
but the ropes that tie have undone now
And my feet can’t quite touch the beach.

I hear the wailing cries that call
They have now come to get only me
My mind is so full of their wailing
That I’m lost and can never be free.

©Joe Wilson – The sirens call…2014

Last night I dreamt I committed suicide;
and it wasn't beautiful or poetic
it simply was yet another death.
I felt boneless and dizzy as I awoke on the dawn
of yet another day.
The sun shone through cracks in my window but
relief never came of not having that dream real.

Last night I forgot to sleep, I forgot to feel;
and I didn't toss around my bed but laid
as a corpse does in his casket.
I felt numb and yet somehow disappointed
of not having someone to scare away this beast.
This beast that clings to my body like a second skin,
this beast which eats away my sun,
this beast that grows with the ennui of life,
this beast which spits on raw wounds of my flesh.
It keeps me caged,keeps me inside,
belittling me and snickering just when I have managed
to get a foot out the door-
so I step back in and close it firmly shut.

Last night I prayed to anyone who would listen
and it was poignant and pathetic because
I awoke to another bright day of laughter from my peers
and I could do nothing but stare from a faraway place
with white noise stuck in my head.

since she was 11
she knew
being abused isn't a punishment
it's a birthright