Scuttle: to sink a vessel by cutting a hole in the hull (to ruin something by abandonment or sabotage)

I slept under layers of ice. Occasionally tapping my fingers in hopes of the thaw.
When realization struck that I was cocooned in this still, I turned to my side.
With each turn, spinning thread. Encased, and mummified until my hands could not reach.
Malnourished, my soul shriveled into the depths of me where the light would hide, beacon.
I waited for you. I waited for you, whispering our memories in exhales that still held so much hope.
Tears would occasionally crawl from my eyes, and crystallize on my cheeks.
My skin encrusted with prismatic jewels.

My hair grew, it faded from the depressed dark colors it had been.
For a long time stained red, from the blood I shed three new years before when I tried to find my way out with a bottle of gin and sharp knives in the bath tub.
Getting too realistic? Details fall in deaf ears.
Only surreal, soft visions catch eyes, glimpses.
I wasn't over the drowning stage of a failed baptism.
My eyes, crystal clear, you could see your reflection in them and swallowed that whole.
I have a knack for scrying in the dark, and showing others those visions... if you're open.

From red to pale yellow, reaching out like branches, snow swept.
The hibernation was hollowing me, I stopped calling.
I thought I were to succumb to the emptiness.
Instead I was woken by the soft pitter-patter of droplets, melt.
I moved viciously like a feral animal. A thirst inside that was to be satiated.
I'd find a way. I pulled thread by thread until my hands wriggled free.
I reached palm up to the iced over coffin.
Softly, the sound you can feel but not hear my hand moved ever so gently through.
Gasping in disbelieve stung, I was swallowing the water I had froze in.
Salt from tears and the sea, you never even came for me.

The sun beamed on my fresh face. I sprung to the top, light and buoyant from the starvation.
I let each wave destroy my frail body with a smile on my face.
The tides took advantage of me time after time again. I was so numb that wave after wave crashing into me, tearing my flesh, felt rejuvenating.
The gulls sounded their SOS for fresh meat when I washed ashore.
Pecks peeling layer after layer of salt skin.
You must have smelled it in the air, sent you running.
My eyes could have cut through even the darkest souls when I saw your face.

The complete disbelief, my audacity, to make it on my own.
No one knows how much I have survived and how many times I've been thrown in to that fucking ocean.
I could sail it with my eyes closed. O' Sailor, I'm calling down the moon.
Your boat to be rocked and you'll be regretting all too soon.
Keep the ropes tight, water's getting choppy, and her eyes burn.
You wanted to keep cargo, make sure she's dead before you let the ship sink, boy.
Oh ho, Ahoy. So surprised to see I didn't sink with the sirens.
I'm not the only one who gave up on keeping promises.

1/1/14

I'm ready

This New moon is going to devour me emotionally.
I'm going to let it.

Pry me open.
I have been begging for new beginnings.
I have been watching with wide eyes.
Be ready. Please, just be ready.

The lunar phases: pressure and then release.
I will succumb to the Super New Moon- in Capricorn.
I urge everyone to figure out how to use the tides to your advantage;
if you do there would be a whole lot less of hearts breaking, souls searching.

We all need an Awakening.

Am I ready?
Always.
Do I realize just how ready I have to be for this?
Absolutely.

Dreams of coloring my torso with blue and green crayons in a dim lit room.
Bathing a happy baby girl in a farm house style kitchen sink while a little cat over looked from a sun spot on the counter.
Then running through tall grass, the blades stinging my skin as they sliced my arms, hands and face, but I kept smiling and laughing as I ran.
When I looked down to see the blood had colored onto my body like the vein system you see demonstrations of in anatomy books.
I "heard" a piano, but actually just saw a glimpse of the keys.
I am thinking to myself that even in my sleep I think too much.

New Moon, Fire signs, 3 a.m.
Self evaluate. Reevaluate. Breathe.

Dear Moon,
Do your bidding.
If that is what is to be;
Should be...
Please.
Then let me...
Release.

I don't think you grasp the circumstances

Dreams to Dana pt2

• I'm walking with someone and looking at windows of little shops, while talking to him.
  I can't make out what he is saying but I have a handful of yellow flowers, and I'm sort of twirling them and not paying attention. My hair is really long in the dream, and I sort of put the flowers in my hair as if it were a pocket in thoughts that they won't get lost.
  
  I turn and am walking down an alley and he stands and watches me. I turn to see if he is following but he's reaching to me and telling me "No."
  I stop for a minute and tell him to come, and he has a look of complete disdain. I feel in the dream I've dealt with enough fixing myself for other people when hey are disappointed that I can no longer be someone FOR someone other than myself.
  I look down and have black boots on with red laces.
  The one is untied. Instead of tying it, I take them off, I hand them to the man, and I start running back down the alley.
  
  Suddenly you are in a little hideaway and grab my arm and pull me over. I go to tell you that he is over there and you tell me to shhhh and you peak around the corner at him and tell me no one is there. So I look, but he is still there and I feel weird. We go through a door into this book shop. All the books are blurred and I keep touching them all and the colors smear like they are all just painted. There are people standing in this line, waiting and they all turn and look at us. A woman gives me a look of horror and is pointing at me and sending me thoughts that I'm a witch. I start feeling really sick. I sort of start mumbling, trying to wake myself up in real life. But you tell me to shhh again and we start waling through a series of doors.
  
  I'm standing in a kitchen, and you hand me a glass. We are both laughing and toasting something. I turn around and he is standing behind us and smiling. I don't know if he is real or not though since you didn't see him.
  But I turn back and look at you and you see him this time and you take a sip and drop your glass, your drink goes all over the tiled floor, and the laces of your boots are stained red.
  I look over to the corner and my boots are by the door... I seem to live there, or he does but I can't tell.

Dream post to Dana pt1

I had a dream that you and I were walking through some ridiculously beautiful town. We were holding hands and you were walking behind me. You kept trying to take photos but I kept telling you there wasn't time right now and that we'd come back soon.
You kept getting sad and made me promise that we would come back.
I did and you said that my hair was turning blue.
You took a photo of me to show me, it was bright peacock blue and I had tribal-like make up on.
You were wearing a yellow sundress and we started running and I kept saying that I needed to find your brother- like he knew what was happening to us.

We got to some odd passage next to the road and had to crawl in.
You kept saying that we were shrinking. And again I just kept saying that I needed to talk to Alex. We came to some clearing in a field and there were a bunch of trees surrounding a desk. You asked me where he was.
And I told you, "Right here, write here" and handed you a pen and we wrote something on this notepad. I can't tell if we were writing or drawing because it started getting really dark. And you started crying and saying that I couldn't leave you there. I hugged you and I woke up.

nov-26-13

Past entries from my personal account- 2010:

October 17th 2010:
You are like nostalgic vibrating in my mouth caused by an xylophone. The sun is my blanket and I am a child of the moon. All I needed was air. Be my fresh breath like the shaking you can't stop. Pull me close so I can show you how beautiful the crashing currents have become.

October 16th 2010:
And she echoed out again from the radio grabbing my heart with an eager reminder 'wait a couple more years and you will have it all.' I have waited a lifetime with my curse of agelessness for the blessing of just a whisper that I am on the right path... and now I know for sure...

October 8th 2010:Paint dripping from your mouth in shades of purple and silver on the linoleum as you crouch over your knees. Your eyes are green again and your acrylic based heart has being soaking in metallics.

Sept 29th 2010:
She lay in the dewey grass, in her hand a half full wine glass. In her eyes the glossy reflection of the moon, I no longer worry, for my ship has been rebuilt and I'll sail out very soon. On the half traveled journey back in time, I'll reclaim my soul, and what's mine, is Mine.


Aug 15 2010:Meditating on a protective energy to surround me and I open my eyes and look at the ceiling and directly above me is a ladybug. Ladybugs remind me of my grandma.


Aug 10th 2010:It's a shame I only use my intentions for good anymore... cause I have someone in mind who is begging to be pushed into some heavy karma.
Tell me darling does it feel good climbing into Medusa's snake pit?

So beautifully haunting with your enigmatic stars for eyes and as sharp as kitten teeth you slice a 3 inch section from my heart. I lay in the moonlight where you found me lifetimes ago washed ashore. The fire is lit.


July 23rd 2010:I can feel the Full Moon ready to bloom. To get out of this boat lost in emotional oceans and to bury our faded treasures in the sand. I will miss the way we shared this handmade ship we built the night we met. But I will now be the Lighthouse and guide us to our new paths.

Dream- Cats cradle

Wake up at 4 in the morning after a string of ridiculous dreams where I'm just looking at shadows on a wall in time lapsed periods.
Staring at the last few years and tearing them down like peeling wall paper.
I'm crying, then lashing out, and realizing I don't cry enough in real life, so I'm tearing stuffing out of an antique chair.
I stand on the window sill of a large window and the light is burning me, the sun is too bright and I'm giving a new meaning to sun bather.
I am smearing paint all over the windows. I spot a bit of light on the floor and follow it like a kitten to a laser.
You're laughing.
and suddenly I'm shushing you, we've broken into a neighbors house and the lights are now off. Crouching behind a large olive green corduroy recliner, they are home and in the kitchen.
I quietly open up a closet door and you follow me in.

Falling onto a linoleum floor that seemingly has just been mopped, we are laughing so hard and I realize I am having a flash back, and the ceiling is melting greens and purples. A bright pink flash goes off, I'm like "oh my fucking god" and I'm crawling into a cat carrier, there are three cats here.
I'm peaking through a light blue lace curtain and wondering why you're in my dream and why I'm writing about you.
You shake me out of the carrier and I'm laying on my back laughing as your shirt is melting.
I'm drumming the floor with my fingers. I don't feel like getting up yet.
I stand in the door way and watch the floor turning into yarn.

11-23-13

Can you be as kind as you like to say?
When you've destroyed worlds and decided to stay?
Sitting at the top alone, alone.
The sparse area of the in betweens.
The too vivid and the unseens.
Pat the soil in hopes for growth, but without haste.
All this time as you've gritted teeth and claimed your fame to waste.
Sitting at the top alone.
All alone.

Is this where you want to be?
A spiraling orb of past drenched lips.
Speak through me, but you can never come to me.
Clinging dress to her perfect hips.
Too bad you only see what you want to see.

You can stay down there in waiting for the moss to grow.
Through the grass, the dirt, and your seeds to sow.
Sitting below alone, alone.
How many times must the walls be built before you stop trying to climb?
There are scars on wrists, but they sure as hell aren't mine.
You can see the smoke.
But don't think you can touch her flame.
Sitting below alone.
All alone.

Saree McClaran

language

I make affirmations monthly since as far back as I can remember.
To never smooth out lines, to never pick off broken pieces, to let them be grown into their own beings.
Fluidity in the hands painting, fingertips softly running along lines to blend time.

You can repaint the surface, but I will always know the colors dancing underneath.
Swirling in party dresses and the particular smile acquaintances give each other a few cocktails in.
Souls with secrets that these bodies haven't uncovered yet.
Letting truth pour into diaries on displayed canvases instead.
Once seen by ones heart, can not; will not be seen in any other way.

My promises to myself through dated lined papers of things I must accomplish creatively.
In languages only I know. Not yet vocalized, yet I feel the sounds.
When art is a way we speak through tongues, and as messy as it may be, it is still perceived eloquently.
Each vowel enunciated by a brushstroke, and each word actually spoken is documented.
Even those ones you thought I never heard.
Even the ones I wish I never had.

Tell me though, do I have the colors right?
These pigments are so tainted and I'm just trying to empty my palette before venturing somewhere new.

New Moon. Blank Canvas. Come soon.

-Saree McClaran
Nov-5th-2013

She does a little curtsey with honey dripping from her lips.
Tapping against her indigo voice with her finger tips.
Eyes are vacant but that shell holds more light than you know.
Why have you been asleep so?
What have I been channeling?
With a blink, and in slow motion, heads turn.
All snakes shed their skin, but words have stung and sink right in.
Weapons with a tongue, and you're not the only one.

I built this house single handedly as you sat idly by.
So why are you so surprised when I am kicking down the walls.
Wings broken, mended... I did try!
As I plucked feathers, one by one, each quill filled with a poison,
a hand out reached and she pulled down the sun.
Why are you crying so hard now, girl?
Left you on the down and out?

She does a little dance with a grin on her face.
Karma leads me in repeated journeys until I get out of the same old place.
Counting rocks I've left my signature on; then casting them all out.
Did the waves wash you in again, girl?
Debris of your hull, and it's on your face again, find your place again.

On the up and up.
String of your little balloon.
Wrapped around a finger, then let it free.
Why have you been asleep so?
What have you been channeling to me?

-Saree McClaran
Nov 11th 2013

Show me your bones

thin veils

I could pour myself out in paragraphs, uncovered creativity that breaths like a blossoming lotus at sunset.
Before you'd see my petals peeling back, and a tiny life inside opening it's brand new eyes.
Fresh breath.
You have to open your own first.

You feel the retrograde? Or just think it's the rising tides.
Mercury and her grip, head held high and she grins when you slip.
See her breathing in the cold air, sharp as knives, and snakes for hair.
By the time you see it, you've missed it.

Out of breath and a voice muffled by the waves, you never hear me calling.
Calling. Dial tone is dead.
This is where our connection led.
The water is deep, fluid, amniotic.
Reciprocate.

-Saree McClaran
Oct 25th 2013

Penny

Huddled under a tree, she fell back.

Her hair blending into the roots,

Reaching from the earth.

-

Mossy softness.
-

Her hands dug into the dirt, through scarce grass; under her nails.

The warm air escaping from her mouth in a little dancing cloud.

Blue, her tears pool in the corners of her eyes.

Soft, delicate, rolling like a child down a hill,

then jumping to it's death off her cheek.

Where did you go?

Sighing as though you can not be bothered by "another one."

Turned your back.

I blink then look down in hopes of your return, one day.

I mindlessly pluck petals off a flower.

White with just a hint of pink, scattering into the wind where they are carried.

-

Like dreams.

-

I cascade her in a soft blanketed cloak.

No questions asked.

Breathe in the scent of emotional pain.

It has a wafting vanilla musk with a touch of roses.

Always made my stomach turn.

-Saree McClaran
10-18-13

i'm sick of this heart yearning bullshit
i want to run away

-

white light kiss my cheek
i felt you there
i am aware

In past lives I sank with darkness.
Mud hardens and fastens like cement.
Even when your will is stronger in the next life the weights to bare were still there.
And all you could do was nod.
You knew.
Water can be contained, but spirits, no, spirits can not.
Even when broken, writhing, staring up at galaxies that shined down with maps from where we used to meet; I knew that I was growing.
Parched and cracked my lips still called to you.
Forever I whispered for you, and apologized until I believed that you had gone.
As I lay still, the sun incubating me, transcending into a phoenix...
In an array of colors that are yet to exist, you heard those colors and looked to the sky as if you finally knew that the vibrations spoke the way we read braille.
Our sky.

-saree mcclaran
9-9-13

rubik's cube

There is a soft pink light that swallows you.
On to her tongue, a vivid neon burst of spirals.
And a vortex that not only opened, but locked you inside.
Every shadow and highlight in purples and greens.
Your skin, our skin, is the same, leather.
You bat your eyelashes and the days pass. You've lost so much.
And you look behind your back when you hear him breathing.
Laying face down in dewy grass.
Your knees are bruised from the times you've dragged behind.

Do you even remember the color of her eyes?
The shadows under water as you watched her undress from the bottom of the pool,
of blood you waded in.
Shred, like razor teeth, spines and you've been cut.
There is no end if you can't pick up your own fucking pieces.
Must you scream through the trees like a hollowed earth that has been so polluted,
so blackened that we are coughing up mounds of soil to bury her past in.
And in one strand of hair, the rainbows bring deja vous, relapse.
You fucking fiend.

july 21rd 2013
saree mcclaran

Butaine.

If you even Knew... Who I "used" to be...
Or how many "used to be"s I have been.

If you could imagine how many worlds I have swallowed down.
How many times I've been too sensitive and let my skin grow thicker to have to peel back layers just to feel again.
If you knew how much negativity I've endured, the complete darkness I've cut holes in to pretend I had stars to wish for you on.
How many I've actually ruined, to set my karma, to ruin myself to wipe that slate clean.
Repeat.
How many hearts, broken, repaired and sent on their way with pieces I've given, with then promising me- never ever let me see you again. Strangers farewell.
How I am shaped by unfilteration, that being filtered will condemn you as a liar;
Momma didn't raise a Liar...
You have no idea how many lies I've had to tell...
and who I've had to tell them to to keep my head above the water.
If you could imagine the amount of venom I've sucked from my wounds, the hateful words I've pretended didn't permeate into my skin.
All the times I made that toxicity look like glitter glistening in the sun so I had light to dance in.
The toxicity has since filtered, but the soil still tastes like metal.

Sometimes I am selfish. I let the past eat me whole.
I revel in my mistakes, I dwell on words I could have, should have, would have said.
I look at the clock and count times I've wasted... while wasting more; years pass and I had no closure for so fucking long.
That my hands are raw for trying to make ends meet that never began.
Lead in circles that were triangles that outline a path I took dead ends to.
No outlet. And I'll take the blame to forget these conversations will always happen.
I'll play the villain and the victim and wear a pretty fucking dress with my hair in bows.
Most things in this world are broken.  Blinded.
If you quit looking at where I'm cracking and helped me over the wounds like I thought you could...
You would see the light I've been trying to ignite.

July 2013
Saree McClaran

- Star Child

There was a point in time, where you did not exist, but you were a dream.
Swimming like neon paints in clear waters. The ocean swayed, our way.
Diluted to a perfect texture, of soft sand, warm on top and cool when my fingers would sink in deep.
The salted air called your name, whispering it through my hair.
Strand by stand I felt you spiral around like an angel, unseen, but the goosebumps could tell your story.
With a fire in the passion of love.
All elements melting into the color of purity.
Now I thank the universe for each breath you take. Each heart beat.
A galaxy at the end of each eyelash, you blink and shooting stars take flight.
A dream come true. I wished for you.

-July 18th 2013
Saree McClaran

--

Done pretending to be part of something that was never meant to be.
I have so much light in me.
But the skies here are constantly overcast.
I refuse to continue standing on the outside looking in.
I am strong, I am intelligent, I am capable; I deserve to be loved.
I deserve to bloom.

Real update… My struggle through postpartum depression.

I have finally- within the last few months come to terms with the fact that I was in denial of the affects of post partum depression and Pre partum depression.
No one ever mentions pre partum, they attribute it to being “overly sensitive” and “oh it’s just pregnancy hormones!” Like you must be delusional. You must not know yourself since you’re pregnant?
And that… Is when you actually start to wonder. You question yourself, your actions, your reality… Do you know what you are doing?
Why are you so depressed? You must not deserve this baby if you can’t even delve into what a magical occurrence this is!
The worst part is that you DO know how magic it all is, you have wanted a baby for years, you’ve mothered other children, fell asleep with them clinging to you, been called mama, loved. So you questioning your OWN child growing in your womb is pure selfishness!
You feel unsure and that is completely normal, but then a haze falls over you… When others are also unsure. You step back to realize you have no support net behind you, they’ve scattered, left you standing naked… Confused.
You reach in the dark for hands but are only greeted with cold concrete walls.
This is your mind. This is the womb YOU remember being told could not bear children… This is your depression. When you don’t just think it in your head, but verbally express fear that your child will be better without you, that you feel empty, that you are soaking a permeated in a complete darkness so intense that life inside you stirs and you stare wide eyed at the ceiling… “Please, please…. Get better” you ask yourself.
When your labor not only does not go as planned, but you’ve almost died. You tasted death in your mouth while demons with open hands grinned while you struggled to bring your child earthbound.
Strapped down, both arms outstretched, cold, naked, and sliced open. You hear him cry.
You couldn’t even give him the birth he deserved…
Guilt. For months… Every time you see him you want to hold him forever. Your eyes burn from all the tears they’ve cried, for him.
He is so full of love, hope….
Why are you still so full of guilt and fear?
Why do you feel so undeserving?
Why can’t you shake this? Why isn’t anyone helping as you are crawling…
Instead stepping on your hands, tearing at you… Blaming you.
He is finally old enough… He reaches up and wipes your tears. He nuzzles into your chest and with his tiny voice says “Mama.”
A light surrounds you, a ray of sun through the trees engulfs you both. “I La-ya” he says and tilts his head and he spirals his fingers in your hair…
The storm had passed. The grass is fresh. The birds are chirping. Your heart is filled with him. And he knows. That is all that matters… HE is all that matters…
You made it.

Peach.

Do you know who weaves your web?
Tearing the sheets from your bed.
Three points, three sides.
Three years, and the words.
Need me.

I was so small then, crawling through the grass with you, damp dew and laying to watch the stars.
Embrace me like you used to when I painted the constellations on your walls to remind you.
Just the taste.

Fingers spread, grasp, teeth sink,
the juices flow to your forearm where I'll forever reside.
Silhouettes still dance in your pupils.
Watch my breath floating into the humidity.
Coax me. I'll come.

Saree McClaran
July 6th 2013

Lux

Dwelling in the devil's hour.
Wake up, your head reeling with the last 27 years.
Has it been this long? This life? So short, but dragged out, living so many phases, so many faces.
Each one I'm still brought back to you.
I tear away, like a feral cat. You still lay out food for me, to make sure I'm still nourished.
Like a moth to flame you coax me and I remember the summers with salted skin and soft collar bones.
Index finger circling down down down. And I'm looking up at you.
Looking up to you, and looking down as you walk away.
Things we will. Never. Get. Back.
Things we will. Never. Be. Again.

And with your hand to mine we created colors so fucking vivid that they'd blind those around us.
Our laughter filling the halls, and how fast you peeled my layers back.
And how I learned even faster to build the walls back up. old ways new.
With promises that "It'll be different." Don't think it will.
I will ALWAYS tear you limb from limb, with a grin on my face that I inherited from the devil himself.

When my eyes pour the paint from your paint brushes and you dream of me at night.
It's 3 a.m. and I'm setting your bed on fire, ripping sheets to the floor and like a maniacal demon, am here to remind you of what we never finished creating.
Do you remember the creaking of the door and the echo of the hinges?
I laid on the floor in the bathroom staring at the ceiling when I needed you most.
Reds, Oranges, Purples... and you remind me of a song I once knew.

Singing words we never lived but pretended, finding ourselves through colored glass.
Swaying on boats, choppy waters and clear skies. Land Oh, here, I come.
And pull the drain. Swam up like a mermaid, transfixed on the designs in your eyes.
But when I grew legs, my first instinct was to run.

-Saree McClaran
July 4th 2013

I saw him.

When I was young I used to never question anything as reality. Now as an adult I know that monsters are very much real. I have seen the face of evil.
I have looked it in the eyes, and I've yelled "I dare you" in it's face.
With a smirk on his face, he dared. He tore my skin from my womb, made me shed all protective layers, showed me my own face at the bottom of the ocean before my last breathe would rise.
'Full of fire', he laughed. "get that from your mother" as he strolled away, parts of my soul in a locket... along with thousands more wrapped around his neck.

I laid swollen and defeated was flocked by voices. Dreamers, See-ers, and the such all surrounded me with a magnetic force, lifting me. "You know better". They sighed. A swift smack to my forehead to open my eye and toss me backward.
Cats always land on their feet.
"Close your eyes, close your eyes to see." I heard in a whispering chant.

See I did.
Her wrists gushing in the bathtub. "How fucking dare you" I shouted. "You know better", I cried.

As the car spiraled in three circles at the intersection, I remember the clouds being that perfect shade of cotton candy pink with a slight orange tint and smiling. It always made me think of when I was really young and we took walks together. I Love You. Three Squeezes.
I crawled from the car, I laid on the pavement. It started to rain. but the rain was little lockets gently falling from the sky. One in each hand, one for me and one for you.
I blinked and stood up and started running through a field of tall grass to get home.
The field I got poison sumac covering my body from. It itched so bad I still remember 24 years later.

I hid your locket in an opening under the heater vent by your bed, where the full moon would shine in. A man in white told me you'd find it there. But all I saw were a pair of sharp scissors.
I removed them and used them to cut my bangs short, my hair was wet so you got mad and scolded me. I looked stupid for a month....

But your wrists stopped bleeding... and the bath tub drained. You dried your hair and your eyes glistened again. When you weren't looking I snuck a peek. I cracked open your locket to see.
A ray of light engulfed the room and I fell back.
The clouds... and he smiled down on me. "Close your eyes to see..." he whispered.
I ran inside and held your hand... and squeezed it three times.

-Saree McClaran
June 29th 2013.

Laboring Seasons

Dear stars, come soon, wrap your light around me in a way where I am blinded.
Vibrations like magma, you crawl with anxiety. A quarter century and some change, rattle in your pocket.

Your fingers brush against the curtains as you wait, sun rise then set.
Holding on to the cotton fibers you swing forward; then out the window.
Hair tangles in the leaves as you've met your landing in thorned rose bushes.
Pale skin, light blue then dripping red as you thrash about.

The Galaxies are contracting.
Push. Breathe.
Dancing Dancing Dancing.
Summer Come.
With the hysterical moon rushing in, soothed.
The sun has wrapped her warm arms around you.

Arrive. Our Sweet Summer Solstice.

-June 20th 2013.
Saree McClaran.

I can't stop dreaming about you.

Rattle their bones off the mountain tops. Like handmade tambourines.
Scavenge to find your art, but make it.
Watch your step though, the hands still reach beyond the soil.
Bring you down, then lift you up. Just like you've always done.
We used to wait for hours, stars to sun, and moon met us in the mornings.
There is the soft waiting scent from autumn still on your skin when you thaw out each year.
I remember that September afternoon, driving by scenery and then off the road.
I stared at the blinding rays in the middle of your eyes that matched the threading of that old shirt.
All trust in Stendhal syndrome-esque dreams. The nostalgia ravages me senseless, pulling me with strings, your little puppet.
Obsessed with counting my steps so I could retrace them, the way you traced your finger tips along me...
Slivers from the tomb I've built and carried to my watery grave.
When you opened it and found I was no longer there.

Reborn with the spring, Bring fauna forth, you'll find me sleeping under trees.
Hide and Seek.

-Saree McClaran
May 28th 2013.

Moth

I watched as the softest of snowflakes fell on to your eyelashes the day you reached over to tell me that You loved me for the last time.
I remember the sun bleached rooms, the sheets, reflected shadows on the ceilings.
And the top of the stairs as you closed the door.
I crawled for you, for so long.
Bruised knees and bleeding palms, through the brush to find us in a clearing.
Fawns of Spring.
I was soaking in too many colors; the emotions flying off my fingertips on to a canvas to show you.
You couldn't see though.
You couldn't fucking see.
I chased after balloons like a child, "don't let it go, don't fly away", you said.
She grew wings over night though, and learned to use them 2 years later.
You watched her graze the light post on the street corner.
Eyes met and you lost your breath.

-Saree McClaran
03-09-13