Paper Siren

There’s a sadist in the street playing drums at 8pm
For a sun that refuses to set without a tantrum
And the Moon, innocently feminine, readies her sword of naïveté 
Don’t push me, darling, you won’t like the consequences
My tongue can lick skin off if given half a language
Don’t go there, honey, you misinterpret my choices
Helplessly mired in preconceptions I’ve encouraged
Wanna role play?

We wrestle with half understood narrations yet glow
Nonchalantly winging it at the best of times
Is this what being adult means? Chicanery and channeling faux
Don’t try me, darling, I’m not a recalcitrant mermaid
My eyes can burn the skin off any face you show me
Don’t tempt me, honey, you exaggerate my frailties
Sadly believing my strengths are indeterminate 
Waffling interminably...

He berates my unfathomable art 
Decries my mind as small  
Dressing me in bland yesterdays 
Me, a beggar for punishment
He, the entropic scar enabler
We...cursed, from the start

We race to the witnessing sand, hard pressed to relax
Playing forever with a dying tide and alternator 
Dropping careless razors on my Flesh while you drink your beer
Don’t darling me when you’re scanning for fractures
Ingress is a lower narcissistic artform of jealousy
Don’t think it, honey, you’ve baptised me wrong
I’m no Echo though my love seems stuck on repeat
So much for effort

I walked into your light, doubly doubting
Do you even notice
I’ve walked out, doubly certain...
Me, the paper image siren
He, the aura fantasiser 
We...no where to go but gone

And he makes me wonder