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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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I pull up my sleeves, and lay my head beneath my knees.
Another pack of cigarette to burn out the mundane weeks.
The faint  taste of cowboy killers are seeming dilute and supine.
This nicotine high is still insubstantial to blocking out
My imbalanced neurotransmitters that are leaking too much serotonin.
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.
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.
It’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.
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 is getting low.
And I’m stuffing balloons between my teeth
I find myself living on the boulevard again,
Because the tyranny of an empty bottle
Doesn’t bring a roof over my head.
I’m eating food from garbage cans in the stop and shop parking lot,
While they try to find a fix before sunrise.
I’m spiraling into the oblivion of a morning cigarette.
While they’re scrapping off the coating with a switchblade.
I watch pupils dilate and dance again.
I find comfort in the rhythm of my churning stomach.

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 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.
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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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!
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: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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