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Blank pageI wish I could give you a nice warm hug on this cold December evening,
but for now, that will have to wait
because your brain is filled with worthless thoughts and feelings.
So get a cup of hot cocoa and sit watching the snow fall, and forget about your worries.
Even if its just for a moment, that moment your worries dissappear and all that you see is the fresh whiteness of the snow, waiting to be marked like a blank page.
Let all your worries and stressfull thoughts blow away in the wind, and have your brain become snow, and the first thing to write on that blank page is love. Write it in big, bold red colors to stand out on that white page, so that whatever other scribbles are written on it, your attention will always go towards that love. The love of a friend will be there for you, my love.
First SnowfallAfter the leaves have fallen
and everything is dead and gray
life seems so dreary and sad.
But out of the sky falls a single snowflake
The cool breeze that i've been waiting for since summer
has finally come to cool down my head
And i want to spend this time with someone special...
with someone...like you.
To spend this magical changing of seasons
with someone i care for
and i want you to experience this with me.
When the ground is covered in sparkling white flakes
the death and sadness is cleansed away
like opening the curtains in a dark room
But for now,
while the snow is falling for the first time since last year,
lets just savor it.
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
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
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