by Hayden Oh
Late is the night when I hear sirens. Compelling cries that blare are sirens. Vinyls on loop are eternal songs tethered to my seas by sirens. Lullabies coax withdraw of abstinence for sirens. Psychedelic voices sing high notes until I cannot resist sirens. Blue beauty flares its beckon of light when submerged by sirens. Red enamel painted by spectral midnight conceals the danger of sirens. Hayden, are we calling for you? Or are we called for you? No longer can I hear sirens.