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broken beatenupon changing seasons
we felt uplifted and happy
to feel a difference
not because of our crawling skin
or shifty, tainted minds.
we broke a smile
then hurried to put it together
as some sort of consolation prize
to all of the sorrows we've faced.
As looking at the frozen tide
we always could smile and look
for the better more subtle things
breezing through our life
like that acid rain
that always came tumbling down
ruining my heart
as i drank it in
wanting to die.
steel - steal -moments-my heart lays locked away
the same picture replaying over again
lying to help me
to stay and sit
with a bad memory in mind.
rock hard emotions pull
these tears away
water making me fall ill
to the metal at hand
and shaking in my heart.
with those black nails
this tears away
peeling emotions, my skin in foot
as if a skinless love
would make it true.
i'm drowning in the times..
beating deeper in me
my heart, stronger then before
as i cry away worry.
maybe one day
we can feel the grace
of broken lips
and created passion
dancing lightly on the floor
i lay crippled in the rain
tears of the heavens
we have fallen and lay now
beaten on the concrete
a dance of fallen objects still fight
to illuminate my sight.
i slip upwards, a stretch
wings fly free spraying shame
before quickly covering a rotting body
bruised and beaten before the final cut
hair matted to the mind that betrayed
final wishes to be made.
at least dreams survived the fall
laying harbored in my heart
a cold place against the blistering wind
crawling to the surface of my soul
light of day
hell of night to stay.
i crawled forth as tears dragged beyond
a past memory, a hope as we looked down
side by side at falling angels
and spinning stars
while praying for nothing to change
didn't last, moments rearranged
i reach your skin
and touch softly
cold like that dream of ice
freezing these pains away
tears only starting to realize
out loss of holy eyes.
i reach closer and kneel up
no longer frightened by the world
the bruises revealed while kissing
away emotions of a sinner fall
in blurry images grew infatuation
a love for that not there
emotions blooming away
into kisses that fold back
to show me why i really cry.
my wings itch away
hugs make them appear
emerging out of shoulder blades
i've become something new.
i'll fly away
black wings to hold me
if only i felt as free
as you said i was
while trying to kiss away fear.
i reach down (out)
my images disappearing
slowly leaving me alone
crying softly in the corner
not like you cared.
tears crying me a river
ruining the feathers to hold me up
falling and falling
you weren't there to catch me
a star too far away.
why can't i stop the crying
after you said goodbye
it must be one of the emotions
that i no longer feel
while i still feel you in my arms
i still feel these tears.
i'm smiling now
though can't understand these
while sitting here
knives near, yet unreachable
through my soul.
laughing i realize
little has changed
i still love, only a different way
and as i look hopeful for a second more
seeing pain within, though not tempted to cut
this cuttable emotion called love.
look at long legs
reminds me of love.
i'll walk by any day
just to see that look on your face
do you want to play
during this two second hour?
what do you say?
look to the kisses
reminds me of love.
just ask what i think
i dare you to find out
what made this link
between your heat and my passion
written down to remember with ink.
look at smiles
reminds me of love.
my mornings consist of bright sunshine
gazing carelessly through my blinds
as i squint to combat the bright light
fumbling for some hope and luck
to get me through another pathetic day.
i shuffle to the shower, towel in hand
the hot water can't erase the images
of the bloody dreams last night
as soap stings my eyes
daggers of my dreams.
i dry off my scars and adorn cloth
it still can't hide my sadness
as i walk downstairs to coffee and tea
neither which and make me warm inside
my heart has grown too cold.
my sadness overwhelms me
trapped in a small car on the way
to a hell where i sit and wish to cry
and as i step out and leave my dreams behind
to enter a place such as this.
hours on end in a room
needing tears to relieve
the throbbing pain that resides within
as i draw lines across my wrists
wishing the pen could be a knife.
after hours have ended
i busy myself with activities
anything to keep me from going home
facing the reality that pain never ends
and that i'm alone to eternity.
my eyes are getting tired
this lack of sleep
is becoming a religion.
i must battle the pain
of closing my eyes
and seeing your face near me
time and time again.
i'm just messing up
tired of all i do.
the lack of success
why can't i just fly away
higher and higher, won't return
why wont you let me
why can't someone fix this
tell me how to get it right.
why don't you laugh anymore
still saddened by the sadness in me?
i need to leave, let you realize
how great it is without these...
tears that cloud what we see.
maybe you'll finally figure out
what being me was all about
these tears, this hate
can you feel me again?
i'm tired, falling asleep once more
your face, your face
so close i can still feel...
may as well buy another packcollapse, and breathe into the carpet:
sunday mornings are not
for falling apart, but damn
the amphorics, this
is not an atmosphere.
you fell in love like you always
wish you didn't, made all their
smiles replaceable, interchangeable,
fell asleep with shadows and kept
drinking, just letting yourself sleep
with blue pills
and tried not to scream.
(keep this image in your head:
fire and nectarines, a sudden jerk
of realization, inspiration
breaking your neck and leaving you forever
breaking bones is not so different
from breaking hearts - it's all about
the leverage, the angle, the mode
(and at least it wasn't personal;
it can color in your own guilt
for starting lines and never ending
The Panic Room (A Supernatural One-Shot)“Dean…? Dean?”
The name felt like lead on Sam’s tongue, so thick and heavy that he wasn’t sure if the syllable had actually made it past his lips.
The only reason he was aware of something cutting into his neck was the trail of red that was marking a small pathway against the stark fabric of his shirt. The dark suit and tie that usually accompanied the white-collared look were missing, but he couldn’t remember why.
His brother’s name seemed to drop soundlessly into the dark space before him. Everything felt heavy. Dull. Maybe he was dreaming.
But dreams shouldn’t smell of dust and abandonment. They shouldn’t be framed by cobwebs and wallpaper so aged that their floral design has faded into funeral bouquets. They shouldn’t have flickering candlelight and robed figures looking down on you.
No, dreams shouldn’t be like that.
But Winchesters don’t have dreams. They have nightmares. Sam smile
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