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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...

Activity


Hey, I'm Cole. c:

Post your literature and I'll comment/critique, favorite if I like it, and if I really love it I'll check out your gallery and watch!

Please no short stories, unless they're short lol. Poems, lyrics, prose, spoken word are always welcome, though. c:

One deviant thumb per person please, if I like it, I'll check you out more. c:

Please comment on others works also, and keep conversation active, I'll definitely look at more of your work if you do! ;P


Here's my piece I'm sharing, please comment first and I'll get back to you when asap when I can. :D

HourglassI pull up my sleeves, and lay my head beneath my knees.
Another pack of cigarettes to burn out the mundane weeks.
I alight my flame and the cherry ignites, as I
Begin to notice the slight palate of fiber glass with each breath.
The faint taste of cowboy killers are seeming dilute and supine.
Yet, the eerie smoke still engulfs in my vacant mind.
I find that the comfort of the kindle quickly fades and reduces to ash.
This nicotine high is insubstantial to blocking out
My imbalanced neurotransmitters that are leaking too much serotonin.
I believe a pretentious narcissistic lives in every soul.
And I too, will stay in my labyrinth with enigmas eating at my bones.
While you sleep I lay in bed next to your frame and gently weep.
With the November leaves, I feel my anticipation and courage
for each and all ambitions, desires, and aspirations crumble beneath my feet.
Without such endurance, my longings will seep within an hourglass
That drains each grain of sand with no remorse.
And like the s



Thank you, and have a good day.

-Cole
Hey, I'm Cole.

I'd like to start a new literature and art critique for critique. I'm a writer, but very willing to critique any form of art. c:

Please critique on one of my works back after my critiques. c:

As of the moment, the only thing I won't take is short stories, I'm sorry.

Anyway, have fun and here's my newest work, choose however many you'd like. :D



HourglassI pull up my sleeves, and lay my head beneath my knees.
Another pack of cigarettes to burn out the mundane weeks.
I alight my flame and the cherry ignites, as I
Begin to notice the slight palate of fiber glass with each breath.
The faint taste of cowboy killers are seeming dilute and supine.
Yet, the eerie smoke still engulfs in my vacant mind.
I find that the comfort of the kindle quickly fades and reduces to ash.
This nicotine high is insubstantial to blocking out
My imbalanced neurotransmitters that are leaking too much serotonin.
I believe a pretentious narcissistic lives in every soul.
And I too, will stay in my labyrinth with enigmas eating at my bones.
While you sleep I lay in bed next to your frame and gently weep.
With the November leaves, I feel my anticipation and courage
for each and all ambitions, desires, and aspirations crumble beneath my feet.
Without such endurance, my longings will seep within an hourglass
That drains each grain of sand with no remorse.
And like the s



Burning In BedAshes lye on her palms
The flowers are crumbling on the lawn.
Tonight she’ll burn in her bed.
And the sun won’t rise above her head.
The taste of menthol cigarettes
Still lining a coating in her throat.
She cannot operate her woozy
Eyelids that drape over her lashes.
Lucid dreams encumber her skull.
The room dull, while smoke engulfs
And creates a contrast
of black upon her gray walls.
Her monastery caught fire.
The green beds burn.
Charcoals shimmer.
Dimming the iridescent moon.
As her silhouette dances
The gloomy sky to rest.
She never finishes her last drags.
She’s got no luck, just T-Shirt stains.
She says she finds comfort
In the hospital hallways.
The last I knew, she was
still puncturing her veins.
And now, her vision is
Flipping through photo frames.
With caskets buried six feet under,
I can no longer save her bruised soul.
She mourns for daylight
As her remorseful absent mind rues.
Her monastery caught fire.
The green beds burn.
Charcoals shimmer.
Dimming the



I Can TellIt isn’t hard to tell, my sunshine
What hides behind your porcelain eyes
Or what must linger in the back of your mind.
It isn’t hard to tell, my sunshine,
By the way I see your tear ducts shine.
While I sing through your drowsy eyes my goodnight lullabies.
Immersed inside your skin, as the shore is within
each kink in it’s oscillations.
I want to smell salt radiating off the sea;
And with your body lying next to me,
You begin to peel then coat my outer filming.
I am perpetually intertwined with
Your hazel eyes that turn green when you cry.
I trace your jaw with my palm, Trying to memorize
Each line of atoms that build up your frame,
Until I could sketch the grin upon your face.
It isn’t hard to tell, my sunshine
What hides behind your porcelain eyes
Or what must linger in the back of your mind.
It isn’t hard to tell, my sunshine,
By the way I see your tear ducts shine.
While I sing through your drowsy eyes my goodnight lullabies.
I stray all day, and crawl



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.



Junkie's Only Survival TechniqueIt’s only 8am, the knocking at my door begins.
Amphetamines, Narcotics, and the Benzo’s start to flow.
I’m opening the window to their dopamine receptors
I’ll be their glow, but I won’t be around when they drain out.
Everyday I see bloodshot eyes; I’ll feed into their jonsing mind.
I take their wallets, holding a melancholy grin.
Looking in the mirror and practicing my nonchalant sins.
I know I’m only feeding in to their addictions,
but I hold remorse to giving them their fixing.
They say overdosing is a peaceful sensation
While the nurses shoot them up with narcan.
A trip, a bump, a roll, injection;
It’s a junkies only survival technique.
Because all my friends are opiate sick,
and only live for a tweak or two just to get them by.
I can tell their sorrows behind glazed over eyes.
And their tainted past still lingers inside their minds.
They choose pills and booze to satisfy their bodies;
Only to decay and end up hungry.
Now the methadone
I pull up my sleeves, and lay my head beneath my knees.
Another pack of cigarettes to burn out the mundane weeks.
I alight my flame and the cherry ignites, as I
Begin to notice the slight palate of fiber glass with each breath.
The faint taste of cowboy killers are seeming dilute and supine.
Yet, the eerie smoke still engulfs in my vacant mind.
I find that the comfort of the kindle quickly fades and reduces to ash.
This nicotine high is insubstantial to blocking out
My imbalanced neurotransmitters that are leaking too much serotonin.


I believe a pretentious narcissistic lives in every soul.
And I too, will stay in my labyrinth with enigmas eating at my bones.
While you sleep I lay in bed next to your frame and gently weep.
With the November leaves, I feel my anticipation and courage
for each and all ambitions, desires, and aspirations crumble beneath my feet.
Without such endurance, my longings will seep within an hourglass
That drains each grain of sand with no remorse.
And like the scent of spring, my record of precious reminiscences
will eventually fade into a memory that I will erase.


I am aware I’m too young to be dispatched to heavens gates,
Yet the thoughts of passing away invade while I try to rest my eyes each night.
My stomach churns and hyperventilates fighting past tears.
I breathe recklessly, not able to catch or calm my lungs.
The comfort of my burial grounds brings peace to my absent mind.
And I cannot find myself; only diminutive traits of a minute character.
Translucence is who I’ve become; a stranger who wanders,
Searching for his inhibitions and tranquility,
Only to find himself perdu to the human espy.
Ashes lye on her palms
The flowers are crumbling on the lawn.
Tonight she’ll burn in her bed.
And the sun won’t rise above her head.
The taste of menthol cigarettes
Still lining a coating in her throat.
She cannot operate her woozy
Eyelids that drape over her lashes.
Lucid dreams encumber her skull.
The room dull, while smoke engulfs
And creates a contrast
of black upon her gray walls.

Her monastery caught fire.
The green beds burn.
Charcoals shimmer.
Dimming the iridescent moon.
As her silhouette dances
The gloomy sky to rest.

She never finishes her last drags.
She’s got no luck, just T-Shirt stains.
She says she finds comfort
In the hospital hallways.
The last I knew, she was
still puncturing her veins.
And now, her vision is
Flipping through photo frames.
With caskets buried six feet under,
I can no longer save her bruised soul.
She mourns for daylight
As her remorseful absent mind rues.

Her monastery caught fire.
The green beds burn.
Charcoals shimmer.
Dimming the iridescent moon.
As her silhouette dances
The gloomy sky to rest.
It isn’t hard to tell, my sunshine
What hides behind your porcelain eyes
Or what must linger in the back of your mind.
It isn’t hard to tell, my sunshine,
By the way I see your tear ducts shine.
While I sing through your drowsy eyes my goodnight lullabies.

Immersed inside your skin, as the shore is within
each kink in it’s oscillations.
I want to smell salt radiating off the sea;
And with your body lying next to me,
You begin to peel then coat my outer filming.

I am perpetually intertwined with
Your hazel eyes that turn green when you cry.
I trace your jaw with my palm, Trying to memorize
Each line of atoms that build up your frame,
Until I could sketch the grin upon your face.

It isn’t hard to tell, my sunshine
What hides behind your porcelain eyes
Or what must linger in the back of your mind.
It isn’t hard to tell, my sunshine,
By the way I see your tear ducts shine.
While I sing through your drowsy eyes my goodnight lullabies.

I stray all day, and crawl in your bed around midnight.
The essence of your being surrounds my frail psyche,
And my independence craves your security.
I can feel myself breathing in your aura again,
And I, cannot bare to live without that scent.

My mentality functions with fragile and dense intricacy,
So if I don’t wander my way home tonight,
Know I love you and keep in mind,
I’m not out messing with spite,
I’m just crossing my roads in the moonlight.

It isn’t hard to tell, my sunshine
What hides behind your porcelain eyes
Or what must linger in the back of your mind.
It isn’t hard to tell, my sunshine,
By the way I see your tear ducts shine.
While I sing through your drowsy eyes my goodnight lullabies.

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