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