#winchester
Clad in plaid and leather, silver
drenched in blood
fingers gracefully extended
to pull the trigger,
jump the gun -
Back to back,
shoulder to shoulder,
hand-to-hand
combat
with each other, with the reaper
This ménage-à-trois
- brother - brother - Death -
encircled in an endless dance,
scowling like wolves,
gnashing blades like teeth,
growling like gunfire
one stretches his arm
and reaches into Hell
a sharp intake of breath, thick
like demonic blood -
his hand gripping the other one tight
by the shoulder -
handprint burnt into his flesh already
from decades of dance rehearsal,
always dancing, always getting tired -
the two as one
and the Holy Ghost of Death between,
this third, silent party
ever-observing, winding between their bodies,
slick and oily -
cunning Death is a slippery eel.
Cheek to cheek
their tears mingling
as they whisper the steps to each other,
useless reminders of
‘I’m sorry’
‘Goodbye’
‘I love you’
‘I can’t be without-’
and one! Death kicks his leg
a sharp stab to the chest,
the heart underneath slowing to the rhythm
of tango dying in the spotlight…
and two! one brother picks up the speed,
carries his partner through the routine,
an arm
elegantly draped around
a neck,
half-carried, half-dragged through this dance,
each foot-fall heavier than the one before,
and three… the violins stop screeching
their violent delight,
all eyes carefully trained on the dancers,
warm blood trickling between their lips,
barely touching,
hot breath visible in the cold black
surrounding their heads.
Death stares, shrouded in his coat.
The boys disheveled but him untouched,
a joyless grin on his pale lips,
thin brow dusted with
the sweat of exertion,
the fire in their lungs
lights a spark -
four! the violins pick up again
their strings wailing in excitement
as a hand descends from Heaven
the dancers looking up in awe,
lifting their faces to the single spotlight
illuminating their locked fingers,
rigid backs,
cheek to cheek still
and five, spinning them around
the hand makes all the blood undone
and heals their wounds
as Death lurks in the shadows, ready
to attack once more -
again - six, again - seven,
eight, nine!
their ribs broken and breath quivering,
hands still holding tight,
legs outstretched -
slowly kneeling in an embrace of pain…
pleading mouths -
‘Stay-
stay with me’
‘Please’
‘Tell me,
tell-
t-tell me it’s okay-’
But on ten, enter stage left
one who’s danced with Death half
an eternity-
he latches onto one brother,
forearm against forearm,
leaving him marked -
suddenly a new rivalry-
the dynamic changes swiftly now
and one brother, with his fists raised high,
Death wrapped around his torso,
he is poised to pounce -
ready to **** now,
any second now,
come to Death, spin him ‘round,
lock eyes with the unthinkable-
eleven. And an arm extends -
in the flash of his own blade
Death falls to his knees,
soulless eyes glazed over, staring still,
the dancers fixed in their sight -
He goes down without applause -
the audience is shocked,
the dancers are shocked,
the violins stopped mid-stroke.
Twelve. A moment of silence for the death of Death.
A beat. And another.
The daring of a pumping heart.
Composure, posture, straightening backs,
hand in rough-skinned hand,
an air of grace and defiance
in their footwork,
set to finish this performance.
At thirteen the violins fall into
the final act -
the dancers spin and smile
painfully wide,
the audience screams and cheers,
wring their hands,
whistle like toreros
rousing Death, forgotten on the parquet,
from his curtain fall,
hands reaching, feeling into the warm
spotlight -
the spectators scream in horror,
the brothers, bowing, turn too late -
prelude -
one -
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 5:39 PM UTC
Feeling the need to smoke a cigarette
When you never had one before
Fighting the urge to *****
Cause you got caught up on drinking more
Packed up your belongings and headed to the west
It's a cold autumn afternoon and the air hits your chest
All that is left of you is in your head
Your body is unstable and your eyes are sore and bleed
Life decided to cut you loose and let you have the noose
No one came to the rescue
There you lay waiting for death to accept you
Had you wished for roses and kisses the time you went away
Strangers from afar would not pay any mind that day
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 3:14 PM UTC
III. Memoriams
Along the walls the rich dead have their names,
some brazen, gilt or carved in polished stone.
Large monuments displaying all their wealth,
which, by their widow's orders were set up,
and are the handiwork of chartered men,
whose many hours of toil have brought this show
and made the lasting icons of the dead.
But on the white stone pillars you will find
the epitaphs of far more poorer folk
who have, by their own slow and humble ways,
etched out the record of their bye-gone days.
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 4:24 AM UTC
She is home,
four wheels
initials in the back
the boys call her home
she has always been there
the one thing they've always had
the eldest rebuilds her,
calls her baby
the younger falls asleep in her passenger seat
the impala is his home
she has seen the boys at their best
and their worst
And she will be there when it's over.
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 12:08 AM UTC
Blue eyes burning into ethereal green
they stare for minutes,
a crisp ocean- pure and strong
battling,
battling against an uncontrollable forest
locked together
speaking volumes without making sound
beckoning,
beckoning for the other to hear
unspoken words of love
Their eyes telling a story
a story their voices wont dare speak
too afraid the other might resent it
unspoken attraction
eyes locked in combat
words not coming out but always there.
Blue eyes burning into ethereal green
they stare for minutes,
a crisp ocean- pure and strong
battling,
battling against an uncontrollable forest
locked together
speaking volumes without making a sound
beckoning,
beckoning for the other to hear
unspoken words of devotion
Both are too afraid to hear the other
one fearing loss,
the other, rejection
fates always entangling
they are bound-
they share a profound bond
stronger then the strongest metal,
lit up in a flame of hope
Blue eyes burning into ethereal green
they stare for minutes,
a crisp ocean- pure and strong
battling,
battling against an uncontrollable forest
locked together
speaking volumes without making a sound
beckoning,
beckoning for the other to hear
unspoken words of promise
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 11:16 PM UTC
Pools of enchantment, that is what your eyes hold.
Inept hands, reach to hold, grasping mine like a life line.
All I ask is that, when your pools of green enchantment look into my own seas of blue,
you will never hide from me, and beg me please to stay.
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 6:31 PM UTC
He’s all green eyes
The type that sparkle
In the early morning sun
That reflect with love
And bravery and protection
He’s all light freckles
That dance across
His nose and cheeks
That can be counted
As galaxies in the universe
He’s all lean muscle
The kind that is
Built naturally
From years of hunting
And fighting evil things
He’s all sadness and defeat
After losing his brother
Just one too many times
And losing all he loves
All the **** time
He’s all Winchester
Stubborn and selfless
Damaged and dangerous
Protective and brave
He’s Dean Winchester
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 4:09 PM UTC
I feel it pulse in my arm
Feel the anger course my veins
Try and fight the urge to snap
The Mark never settles
It’s always there, nagging
Trying to get me to ****
History repeats itself
I vow never to let it happen
Never to **** my brother
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 12:47 PM UTC
*Hush little Sammy, don't say a word,
Momma's still watching even after she burned.
And I know Daddy seems real mad,
but since mommas been gone he's been real real sad.
And I know you wanted to marry that girl,
but she's with mommy and that must hurt.
And big brother Dean keeps selling his soul,
then daddy dies and you lose control.
And you meet an Angel of the Lord named Cas,
and he keeps bringing your brother Dean back.
And now Dean's hurting everyone,
and The Mark of Cain rests on the righteous son.
But though brotherly love transcends any curse,
The darkness has come to destroy our earth.
But its ok Sammy cause mommas still here,
and I know you two can fight this so dont you fear*.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
I don't want prince charming
suited up in armor.
I want a flannel clad man
who will help me
keep my demons in line
and I can help him tame
his inner monster.
You Disney girls keep
looking for Charming,
I'll keep searching for a Winchester.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 2:42 AM UTC
Sitting in white shirt
(Loosened yuppie Windsor knot)
Armchair laughing
Having realized the grand joke of life
Satisfied little Sanskrit honey
Is it a bohdi tree or burning bush
(When really are one and same)
Don't think too hard
Suburban white boy dreams of trap houses
With tie over shoulder
As the tv says it prevents
***** on tie
Little air planes
Round and white
Hard pressed (to explain)
Make one fly at high speed
Get it? (never mind inside joke laughing)
Talks like a gang banger
Can't take it seriously
Little big boy equals not shook
Drinking rot gut tallboys
Days after and minutes away
Zehaf-Bibeau war memorial
Winchester repeater in hand
Supposed ideological threat needed
Expand the police state
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
so there's this boy
he wears plaid, is kind of cute, i guess?
i raised him straight from the worst
and still, he hates himself everyday
why can't it stop?
so there's this angel
he wears a trench coat, is really cute, i guess?
he raised me straight from hell
and i don't know why, but i hate myself everyday
why did it start?
so there's this boy
and i try to keep him happy
but it seems like he's going back to hell again
how does it stop?
so there's this angel
and he tries to keep me happy
but i feel like i'm going back to hell again
how does it stop?
so there's this boy
and he hasn't come home
maybe he was drunk?
was he still out on his hunt?
so there's this angel
and i feel horrible to leave him
did he think i was out drinking?
or did he think i was still on my hunt?
so there's this boy
and he hasn't been home in a few days
did he leave?
usually things are supposed to end with goodbyes
so there's this angel
and i watch over him everyday
i feel bad for leaving
it's kind of ironic, watching after your guardian angel
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
I can see the strength in your eyes is getting weak.
Trying to keep alive is becoming quite the feat.
You have so much weight placed on your shoulders.
Forced to grow up a little older.
Left your childhood behind too soon.
There was nothing left for you to do.
Just hold on.
The sun is soon rising.
A new day has come.
Breathe deep and carry on.
The sweet innocence that once burned so bright,
Is gone with all of its light.
That burden you carry around,
Will someday bring you down.
If only you would take my help.
Just hold on.
The sun is soon rising.
A new day has come.
Breathe deep and carry on.
You don’t have to go in alone.
You can always come home.
I will be here when you call.
I will catch you when you fall.
Just hold on.
The sun is soon rising.
A new day has come.
Breathe deep and carry on.
I know that trust doesn’t come to you easy.
And asking for help makes you uneasy.
But that façade you keep,
The one that leaves everyone out of reach,
Is what will bring you to your knees.
If only you could be free.
Just hold on.
The sun is soon rising.
A new has come.
Breathe deep and carry on.
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 7:25 PM UTC
I'm bleeding out
and all you do is watch me drain.
I gave you my heart
but you've got the devil in your soul,
so you tore it apart,
piece by piece.
I'm left with nothing but the stars
So I drink to wash away the pain it brings.
I'm your **** of the night,
but not if this drink does it first.
I'm already half drained.
All I ever gave you was everything
from the very beginning
and now you've thrown it all away.
You were once my brother
and I still believe underneath that skin,
and all your sins you're still human.
You were once holy and sane
but it's hidden somewhere lost in the dark.
All I do is drink your poison.
I let it consume me.
Every inch of my body
until I'm finally able to feel nothing.
Only then will my heart stop aching
and my body stops bleeding.
I greet the dark like it's a friend
that helped me escape.
I'm no longer here to see what happens next.
I'm gone and buried away.
My last drink was the most bitter
but it was such a relief.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 7:01 PM UTC