#sam winchester poem

[sapphirecherry]

- tum'ah | sam w.

[queerstudiesnatural]

wee sammy poem to celebrate the 30k sam post reaching 11k <3

transcription under the cut

mashed potato monster

is the world getting smaller? or am i expanding? spreading and festering without realizing?

i place my hand on my neck and squeeze religiously there are seven faces in the mirror and none of them are me

i can feel a lump in my potatoes i flatten it with my fork and draw patterns in it like prison bars

with blood under my nails and dirt in my veins i’m grasping at the world, only pulling it closer                                                                          to disaster

[echoing-oursong]

poem for Sam Winchester on my ao3: here

[femsammy]

[monstersandbrothers]

sorry to make absolutely everything about supernatural. It will happen again

[thegoodthebadandtheart]

lovetown by nigeltde (sam/dean)

spill your guts.

[serendipity0930]

text from an original poem <3 // 12x02 / 02x21 / 09x09 / 05x22

[seasononesam]

But now, like a whispering in dark streets,

rumors of God run through your dark blood.

- “To the younger brother” by Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy, from Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God

[arcanespillo]

"When we were children, the family moved a lot and wherever we went my brother wanted to make friends with boys too old for him. He ran behind them, mistook the rules, came home with a bloody nose. It puzzled me from the beginning. It made my heart sink. I have a photograph of him (taken in the bush behind bald rock) about ten years old, standing on the ground beneath a treehouse. Above him in the treehouse you can see three older boys gazing down. They have raised the ladder. He is giving the camera a sideways invisible look. Years later, when he began to deal drugs, I got the old sinking feeling. Not for the criminality of it, not for the danger, but that look. No one knew him. He was the old one."

Supernatural \\ Nox by Anne Carson

[sapphirecherry]

twenty-three

you are 23 when you first die.

you are 23 as you kneel in the rain and the mud and your brother grips you like he can’t won’t let you go.

but you are gone.

you are 23 and you are gone. you blood coats his hands, stains your jacket, fertilises the earth. can it do that? you are cursed and unclean and the unholy can not breathe new life.

you have left him. everyone. this wasn’t supposed to happen. you were supposed to get out. you did. but the yellow and red flames of your childhood they grabbed you and didn’t let go.

you are 23 when you die. but you are not dead.

[edit: reposted for better formatting]

[newtdrawz]

Sam Winchester is so Two-headed Calf poem by Laura Gilpin coded,,

I'm just thinking abt how he used to sit on the cars hood w/ Dean to stare at the stars,,, just thinking abt how there are twice as many stars as usual,,,,,,,

No yeah just thinking abt how he's always felt like a "freak of nature" but yk,, tonight he is alive and sitting on top of the impala with his big brother,,, yk

I just finished season 5 btw can you tell?

[echoing-oursong]

Snake Venom

They tore your body down and,

ripped away your personality until nothing was left.

A vibrant smile with dimples that peeked

at the side of your cheeks,

becomes only a thin line upon your lips.

Your once righteous anger at those

who have violated you, gets buried.

Its only use now for people to berate you.

A weapon upon their lips to use as snake venom,

To poison you,

And it seeps its way into your blood stream.

The fight drains from you as the snakes,

Bite deeper and deeper.

And with each bite you believe that the snakes are right,

That your anger should be punished.

And this is a purification for all your sins.

So, you watch in morbid fascination,

as blood drains out of you.

Eager to be purified and washed away,

of all the evilnèss in you.

But this is not a purification,

only an act of violence.

[wrenwinchester]

Poem three from Lazarus Rises (amongst other things) by Berklie Novak-Stolz (@icaruspendragon)

These words have been stuck in my head the past couple days. And I hadn’t read this poem in a while. I keep the book on my nightstand, a comfort that it’s there, but most of the time it goes untouched, not because I don’t love it, I have it highlighted and marked up the wazoo. But it’s so much easier to spend my time scrolling than to do other things I really want to do.

But anyway, I’m getting off track. This poem came back to me a couple days ago when I reblogged the post about which person in tfw 2.0 would be most likely to keep a diary. (X) and I used Berks words specifically for my analysis on Dean, because they felt right. And since then these words have been floating around my brain.

I have so much to say, so much I want or need to say, but in order to do so, I would have to pry myself open, lay myself bare in front of the people I care about most. And that’s. One of if not the most scary things I can imagine. Because the fear of being rejected for opening up. For saying what I feel and being shut down or told I’m not important. Or being made to feel like I’m not important again.

Emotions are hard, and finding words to explain them is even harder for me. It should be easy to explain that I’m happy or sad or why I’m feeling how i am but they all just get stuck in my throat. Clinging to my teeth and cutting my gums and my tongue. Choking me and taking over every ounce of entire being and it’s killing me.

I can’t get the words out, and I can’t pry them from my teeth. And I don’t even know what I would say if I could. I don’t know the words hiding behind my teeth. Hidden away from the world, and if I started talking I wouldn’t be able to stop. But I can’t start.

[asoftepiloguemylove]

Virgil // Supernatural (2005-2020) "Carry On," dir. Robert Singer // Emily Palermo (via @metamorphesque) // Margaret Atwood Selected Poems: 1965-1975 // Jason Schneiderman Blood and Soil // Supernatural (2005-2020) cr. Eric Kripke // Terry Pratchett Thief of Time // The Mountain Goats Sax Rohmer #1 // Adonis (tr. Khaled Mattawa) Selected Poems // Supernatural (2005-2020) cr. Eric Kripke // Ernest Hemingway The Garden of Eden // pinterest // Supernatural (2005-2020), "Pilot" dir. David Nutter // Joan Kierney The Tragic Hero Upon Reaching the End of the Script Realizes He Has Been Dead the Whole Time // Hans Christian Anderson // Supernatural (2005-2020) cr. Eric Kripke

[balladofthevisibleboy]

[thegoodthebadandtheart]

here's my art for the fic put my feet on the ground (sam/dean) by @hello-starlingfics for the @spnproshipbang. go check it out HERE and leave some love/comments!! you can view the second drawing in its entirety here or here.