Dreamt that a friend and I were walking through a clearing in the woods around sunset, there was a small pond, crystal clear, you could see how soft the algae looked at the bottom and tadpoles and salamanders skittering back and forth between little pockets.
We walked passed but kept watching them, we got to a road to cross and suddenly all these bright orange newts were crawling out of these puddles and going right for the street while cars were coming. I started panicking and jumped into the puddle that was actually very deep and tried to collect the newts in the edge to bring them back in, my friend stood at the edge gathering whatever ones he could to get them back in the water.
Then I continued to have nightmares that all the animals were defending each other from humans and they were left without their mates and children.

Sometimes I have found more comfort in falling off the face of the earth than being surrounded by human presence.
That doesn't make me anti-social, it doesn't make me a recluse, it doesn't mean anything more than I find solace in silence, and just being immersed in my own thoughts; in my own being.
Sometimes I don't read my messages, sometimes I do, but never reply.
Sometimes I'm busy, and sometimes I just say that I am.
That doesn't mean I care less about people, it doesn't mean I'm being avoidant in order to hurt anyone or push anyone away.
People need their own space to breathe.
If that means I have to run for miles in the other direction, then I'll run as fast as I can.
Then I'll take my time when I decide return.

33014

Three days and I already feel your pull.
Damn water moons.
Might as well go against the tide if I want to make it through the Dark Moon this month.
All your books of secrets have had their pages pulled and thrown to flame.
If you go hunting witches, you'll fucking find them.
Breathe me in.
My clothes still smell like the smoke.

4 a.m. keeps all of my secrets.
Deepest thoughts in the darkest hours.
Where romance has no name, where my soul was sold.
-Then found again.
Repenting unto yourselves, smirks on faces, blood on hands.
Fake remorse.
I get what I want because I earn it.
When I drop the vase, when it hits the ground and the ashes spread,
when spirits whisper through the uplifting winds.
I send you thoughts by the flickering blue light of candles.
Then light fires to beds; as you ask what spells are cast.
I can only smile as you flatter yourself.
Shake it from your being, dear.
Learn the dance, or get left behind.

-Saree

we'll runaway

If you look close, you will see that with each blink we all shield ourselves.
Secrets on flower petals. Blink.
A certain aroma carried through spring's eager breeze. Blink.
Running your fingers along a windowsill where the sun has added it's warmth. Blink.
Houses settle, but our souls don't. Bodies break down, then feed the earth.
We disconnect into particles of energy. We accumulate elsewhere.
Flower petals.
Nostalgic aromas.
Fingers.
Windowsills.
The Sun.

S.M.
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