the siren song

so it is 3 am

and again my doubts sing their siren songs

songs of my failures

of other’s successes

of giving up and giving in

and these words rush into my ears

racing to see who can win and push me farther away from my goals

can push me to the brink

to the very edge

but they will not be satisfied

i turn away

and like Odysseus tie myself to the mast

and r e s i s t the empty temptations

a stream of consciousness

it festers inside me like a slab of meat left out for days

where it rots and rots and rots

basically telling the world that “yes, i am vile and disgusting, what’s it to you?’

It is its ‘F U’ to the world that abandoned it, that left it there when it was raw and vulnerable, soft to the environment and yearning for anyone’s touch

when the maggots come round to feed on its juices, it finds pleasure

so much pleasure in being touched being gnawed

being intruded by the wiggling bodies of the white able-bodied creatures


it is still lonely even as the flies are birthed in it and continue to use it as a husk to grow and mature

the slab of meat that is broken down tendon by tendon is barely what it was

the vibrant red that it used to have is gone and what is left is what is akin to what is left on the bottom of your shoe after you traipse around in the mud

it is just a brown sludge of despair and loneliness and anger and sadness

just so much sadness that it cannot breathe

that it hurts to breathe

hurts hurts hurts


I begin.

My shoes are untied.

I stop.

I begin.

The gun misfired.

I stop.

I begin.

the sky turns gray and water spills.

I stop.

I begin.

That fear of failure grips my chest.

I stop.

I begin.

I ask, “What’s the point? Why am I doing this?”

I stop.

I begin.

Everyone is staring at me,

eyes measure my worth,

sweat beads on my forehead and-

-I run without stopping.


eyes say so much.

what do mine say?

do they say that I am weak

or that I am strong?

do they say that I am ignorant

or that I am wise?

do they say that I am a hero

or that I am a bystander?

I wonder,

if someone stared in my eyes,

could they see

all the things

i bury inside.


I clutch an umbrella in my hands,

my makeshift shield against

the light

that is too bright

the dark

that is too silent

and the sound

that is too empty.

the need to protect myself is strong.

there is too much out there.

I’ve seen




I need

to be strong