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About Literature / Hobbyist Member Coley20/Male/United States Recent Activity
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Week [7] - teacup days by nari-me
by nari-me

I love this photo! It shouts fragile, dainty, artistic, and has an essence of romance and purity. You turned a cup of tea into light! Y...

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Hey, I'm Cole. I'm a writer, and I'd love to share my work, and also read some of yours!

So, pick your newest, favorite, oldest, which ever one. c:
I'll take 2 poems per person, 1 short story (Sorry, I can't read much at one time. :c), and 2 lyrics/prose. Feel free to post more, maybe I'll comment on more of yours. :P

Thanks, Cole.

Here's what I'd like you to comment on. c:

Lyrics:


Opaque EyesYour hands stood upright
And tremble under the sight
Of saline opaque eyes.
While palms covered in blood
Drip in reoccurring scenes.
Staggering to your tomb,
You pour salt in your wounds;
And bathe yourself in Perchloric acid.
Hades gates will evermore
Encumber your bodies remains.
You will stay,
Buried within the cemeteries corridor.
Wetting the stains
That are seeping into your dress;
You pray to heaven.
But, even angels were demons once.
And the tainted souls held
Within the catacombs of hell,
Will lye in their graves
Looking to be saved.
Hades gates will evermore
Encumber your bodies remains.
You will stay,
Buried within the cemeteries corridor.
You will stay,
Buried within the cemeteries corridor.


While I SleepCrests of the sun,
Emerge from your hands,
I think I’m changing
Unless I’ve grown numb.
‘cause I can’t feel her fingers
trace my palm.
And the methadone
can’t keep me calm.
While I sleep, while I sleep
I’m seeing you in picture lenses
And between far distances.
While I sleep, while I sleep
and you toy with me,
Lucidly in my dreams.
While I sleep, while I sleep.
Our car parked in the break down lane
Your bare feet leaving stains
60 pounds lay on your chest
Honey, Put the baby to rest,
She’s crying in the back seat
I’d love to see your face clearly
But, Know everything’s going to be okay with me.
While I sleep, while I sleep
I’m seeing you in picture lenses
And between far distances.
While I sleep, while I sleep
and you toy with me,
Lucidly in my dreams.
While I sleep, while I sleep.
Sometimes I guess I don’t mind,
This fucked up town or iodine
You can sell my soul
It’s disease ridden and old
Maybe then I can be a ne





Poetry:

WidowMy lungs soak in weeping tears,
Exhaling the sorrows of a widow.
Beating chests strung on your vanity
You are the shadow aside me,
following my lonesome psyche
The sunsets switch to igniting stars,
Knit picking each fragment of my abundant scars.
I allow you to break down my composure.
Precisely investigating my frail structure.
Your essence eternally departs an anonymous afterlife
I held your ring finger like a fitted handle; purely naive.
Consequences seep alongside my grieving despondence
I am a deserted soul; tongue-tied with encumbered inhibitions.
My love for you has reached a ceaseless plateau.
This catastrophe has rung my yearning aspirations.
Standing next to your grave, the crows circle above.
Conjoining itself within the darkening gloomy clouds
My habits have bit off my anxious nerves and the skin to my lips.
I commit this sorrow inside incompetent inhibitions
By what method do I communicate these trailed woes.
Insinuations laced upon your name; condolences drown my brain.
I



My CondolencesI remember the rivets of your palms.
Holding my skeleton as a newborn.
With pure energy immersing me.
And though your body may rest,
Deep within the roots beneath
Atumn leaves; hidden in a cemetary.
They will continue to grow
In the fragile condolenced
Souls of every ribcage that you've touched.
Mothers day mourning and melancholy.
Waking up unaware of your lungs,
absent and starved for a
lungfull of the heavans.
And though your body may rest,
Deep within the roots beneath
Atumn leaves; hidden in a cemetary.
They will continue to grow
In the fragile condolenced
Souls of every ribcage that you've touched.
Yet, I dreampt of you just last night.
You're bones, strong and healthy.
Protuding out of your skin.
And though your body may rest,
Deep within the roots beneath
Atumn leaves; hidden in a cemetary.
They will continue to grow
In the fragile condolenced
Souls of every ribcage that you've touched.
You were shatterproof and ceaseless.
Claiming you've seen the light before;
Its nothing to f





Short Stories:


My mothers good manMy Mother's Good Man
Written By: Coley O'Connor
  I never met my grandfather.
He died when my mother was at a very young age; 6 years old. I've heard he was a good man; I believe it. Through out my life, my mother sporadically told me stories of the days she enjoyed with him. They seemed full of excitement as her voice became higher and higher with the more words she spoke. I saw tears forming in her almost black, yet dark brown eyes that now seemed to be full of color.
I remember trying to force my brain to deem every detail with importance. - (Something I've been working on.)
The way she said each word showed not only how she still knew his personality, but his bone structure too; in an intensely precise manner. The way she pronounced each sentence was as though she could still see his lips moving and hear his voice.
It will always impress me.
One night when I was child;
before I found out I had not only a form of schizophrenia nor anything about the


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Your hands stood upright
And tremble under the sight
Of saline opaque eyes.
While palms covered in blood
Drip in reoccurring scenes.
Staggering to your tomb,
You pour salt in your wounds;
And bathe yourself in Perchloric acid.

Hades gates will evermore
Encumber your bodies remains.
You will stay,
Buried within the cemeteries corridor.

Wetting the stains
That are seeping into your dress;
You pray to heaven.
But, even angels were demons once.
And the tainted souls held
Within the catacombs of hell,
Will lye in their graves
Looking to be saved.

Hades gates will evermore
Encumber your bodies remains.
You will stay,
Buried within the cemeteries corridor.
You will stay,
Buried within the cemeteries corridor.
Opaque Eyes
3rd fret`

F (Barred), Dm, Em, Am

(all Barred):
Dm (Second), Fmaj (First), Cmaj6 (Second), Gm (First)
Loading...
I can never seem to fulfill a sorrow’s debt.
And I’m ready to knock a few teethes out,
Because the last few weeks have been hurting my soul,
And this Strawberry Moonshine’s taste is getting old.
These sober lips can’t help but contain all these secrets,
That I can’t bare to explain,
unless I’ve got alcohol within the blood in my veins.

And now my eyelids are stained
pink from drunken restless nights.
They’re painted a
Dull black and white
Tinged with a hint of seasick lullabies.

So tonight I will let my rage indulge;
Fill my mouth with sins
that even soap can’t rinse out.
And I will speak all my woes and trials;
Every last of these solemn downfalls.
And soon, I will feel euphoria
breaking past salty tears.

And now my eyelids are stained
pink from drunken restless nights.
They’re painted a
Dull black and white
Tinged with a hint of seasick lullabies.

And I have not allowed
myself to pray to a God that isn’t there,
Since I was the young age of eight,
that night when my grandma passed away,
I asked her if she could even
hear my voice from under that stone,
And for once, I wanted it to be true.

And now my eyelids are stained
pink from drunken restless nights.
They’re painted a
Dull black and white
Tinged with a hint of seasick lullabies.

So, don’t tell me hope is but a dream;
Far past and short lived.
Because even I,
A sinner,
A cheater,
A pre-op transgender with no money for his surgery,
Can see, that there is more to life than misery.

And now my eyelids are stained
pink from drunken restless nights.
They’re painted a
Dull black and white
Tinged with a hint of seasick lullabies.
Moonshine
G, Bm, D, Em, Am, C, D7

Dm, Am, D7, Em
Loading...
Her lips taste of summer time and kerosene
Mixed with a hint of methamphetamines.
The paramedics are rushing to the scene.
She’s got a cigarette still clenched in her teeth.
And a vendetta in her sheets.

There’s cigarettes lying on the lawn.
The gardens been gone since last week.
She can’t help but blame it on the disease.
She shoots reality through fragile needles.
And says she won’t pray to God, ‘cause he’s not there.

She gently grips a bottle of Dilaudid
She’s wearing 7 Fentanyl Pain Patches
She said she wouldn’t go down without a fight
The last of her viks kept her company tonight.
She’ll continue to battle the war in her mind.

There’s cigarettes lying on the lawn.
The gardens been gone since last week.
She can’t help but blame it on the disease.
She shoots reality through fragile needles.
And says she won’t pray to God, ‘cause he’s not there.

She says death is just another part of living.
She dreams of the coast; the sound of the swelling tide.
Her muscles are weak and hold coursing formaldehyde.
A pale face and bloodshot eyes.
She’s got nothing, yet still used to smile sometimes.

There’s cigarettes lying on the lawn.
The gardens been gone since last week.
She can’t help but blame it on the disease.
She shoots reality through fragile needles.
And says she won’t pray to God, ‘cause he’s not there.
Saturday afternoon wakes.
Your body cremated standing
On a table in a vase.
My relatives blood and tears
Dripping like dew
Upon June leaves.
With monochrome photosynthesis
That seeps within absent chlorophyll.
Scattered the ground with
Orange and yellow exhales and leaves.
Much like your entity,
Fallen with a hint of
Smokers breath.
That lingers on your lips;
Leaves the scent of detox,
And hospital beds.

Cancer scorned the scent of your grave.
And now you rest in peace.
You died in your sleep.
Now your suffers can release.
While heavens gates subdue,
He washes splatters off your
Palms and feet;
Forgiving your sins
And healing tainted pasts
with his glass of holy water.
Yet, I saw your family’s breath
And shaking voices break.
As they spoke of you.
Mourning embraces and lovers notes heard
From quivering speeches.
And their tear ducts shined melancholy.

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melancholymourning's Profile Picture
melancholymourning
Coley
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
Hello, I’m Cole.
I am 19, located in Connecticut, taken, a ftm pre-op transgender, an atheist, Libra, vegetarian, musician, and writer.
I'm currently in school taking GED classes, cleaning out my apartment to move into in November, and taking each day as they come. c:
Writing and music are my two passions. I play drums, ukulele, and some other random instruments. I plan on going to a musical arts college to later teach music part time.
What I focus on is living day by day, in the present moment.
Interests

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:iconcarl-mcintyre:
Carl-McIntyre Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2014  Student General Artist
How are you :D
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:iconmelancholymourning:
melancholymourning Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
I'm good, thanks! Yourself? :D
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:iconcarl-mcintyre:
Carl-McIntyre Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2014  Student General Artist
Loverly!
Reply
:iconmelancholymourning:
melancholymourning Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
That's great! Glad to hear it! :D
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:iconlexariusssorcalucard:
Lexariusssorcalucard Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2014  Professional Digital Artist
welcome to the group.
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:iconmelancholymourning:
melancholymourning Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you very much! :D
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:iconsharkhoang:
sharkhoang Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday!
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:iconmelancholymourning:
melancholymourning Featured By Owner Nov 11, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you!
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:iconcamille-strong:
Camille-Strong Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday! Have your cake and eat it too
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:iconmelancholymourning:
melancholymourning Featured By Owner Nov 11, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you!
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