You've slipped in and under the darkest words.
The strong sense of need, seething from novelty.
The realization that it was an act, and you were set up.
The rough, sharp texture of cemented dust in the crawl space you've escaped through.
The bleeding of your fingertips as you clawed through ice just to reach a sense of being real.
Profound. Finding.
When the water solidified into ice rushing through your lungs.
And your eyes froze open to watch the waves tearing flesh from your body.
Wake up.
Please! Wake. up.
We meet again, Sleep Paralysis, and she creeps into the shadows of my room.
Crawling on me like a cat, Not to wake a soul, but to Awaken.
Singing her tune, through the dust in the night light.
The terror of her icy hands running along my face and the stinging as they've reached into my soft mushy sleeping brain.
Sea foam.
Eyes open. Surface. Gasp.
Retrograde.
You can not fathom.
-Saree McClaran
Dec 2012.
