The AI’s Weakness, Hands. The Closer It Gets To The Tips Of Humanity’s Fingers, Our Very Identity,

In twilight hours, when her day’s thoughts drift heavenly with the receding tide, and fears and doubts rescind, she thinks of her. Her head wet from the sea dampening her pant legs, resting in her lap as a black pearl. She runs her fingers through her short black hair and wonders how it rises underwater, if she could ever see it for herself without drowning. Salt and iron prick her nose. The siren opens her eyes and the moment she looks at her with a tenderness so palpable, her image disappears. Her lap lay empty. The sailor girl’s mind too shy to peer at even the idea of her so flagrantly. She hears the creaking of the floor boards, and inhales the lantern oil burning, and is brought back to dry reality. Skin itching for the sand in the ocean shallow.

I cling to the anchor because I think the ship will drown me.

I crave the familiarity of the salt water over the cold whipping of the air.

Because I would rather drown than change, I would rather stay stuck in the same place for the rest of my life than breath the air of tomorrow.

The Girl who Cried Wolf

Was never met with hurried steps coming to her aid in the dead of night. The first night she watched for the beast, his golden eyes burned from a breath beyond the treeline. She shouted out for pitchforks, torches, and only felt wind and moonlight rushing to her side. Nobody believed her the first time.

I need a new wardrobe—I’m running out of time to be young and beautiful. For people to see me and not just look at me out of some mundane politeness. I need to be everything I am right now in these fleeting moments, or it’s like they’ve already gone.

What secrets I would tell you if it would not take you drowning to hear them

-Diary of a Siren

Twilight miss me when I’m gone, bleed my shadow ‘til it’s grown.

Light don’t follow where I go, my face anew you’ll never know.

Taken by the wind’s sweet pressure on my face, I am swept to the little church on the hill. Sugar atomized in the air; footsteps bringing life to the silent cedar floorboards, nothing felt simpler than there. My eyes are sealed as I soak in the feeling, finding a smile in the blustery darkness.

How on earth did you find me?

Oh sweet siren, every inch of water you touch tastes of sugar. I couldn’t lose you if I tried.

Well you ought to at least try.

Bite your tongue lass.

Or what?

Or I’ll do it for you.

Rotten sailor. I’ve no desire to play with you anymore. Leave me be.

How can you lure me off my ship and not even finish me? What am I to do now, drown?

You’d better not. I’d snap your neck myself and let the ocean have you but she retches at the taste of pork.

I’m no pig you finned whore!

Then why’s your nose look like that? Go to shore and dry off before your wife finds you wet, piglet.

—Diary of a Siren

There was a worse fate than death, I found, as the god I once worshipped laid his hands on my very soul.

To be unmade.

The touch of your coat as you trot on by.

The green of your eyes as you gaze at the sky.

The scratch of your claws as you knock on my door.

I miss that sound dearly

for I do not hear it anymore.