A Kawaii Memoir


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Posts tagged Freeform
Hollow City

WRITTEN: 01/01/2019

In my many nerd-ism attributes, I think of Bleach when I ponder over the word "hollow". I think of great giant beings with holes in their hearts consuming the spirits of those around them. That's what I feel in the big apple. A bit hollow, and the desperate need to consume everything to the point that health is irrelevant. I feel this emptiness rise from corners of my mind, and it reaches out to hold me close. A Hollow City, and I’m tourist within smiling my way through its gray ambivalence. The city is a place of opportunity, and like many a weary artist cities feel like the place to be to make your dreams a reality. In the past I wanted to live there so badly. I thought that NYC was the place that would accept my energy and have it flourish. Now when I visit I feel energy seep out of me into the metro. The love I once held for the city in my youth I suppose matured. What once was naiveté ambition became a cruel jaded reality. The truth is my experiences in the city aren’t always a joyful memory, more often then not I am left leaving the city drained and questioning the monetary decision to go there.  There is something about the gray sidewalks and haunting skyscrapers that reminds me of the intimate and negative experiences I’ve had in the city. The friends I’ve lost, the arguments, the harshness of the people. It all clings to the light I feel inside aggressively. I never want to experience a negative change or regression when I visit a place but NYC with all its lights is so dim. When people ask me about my trips to New York, I give such a pained smile that I’m reminded of what looking through glass feels like all over again. Yukijoro, the voice within me weeps. I remember the tired nights, the men I run from, and the cruel words whipping my body from strangers. I don’t understand how a place bustling with life can feel so empty. Perhaps my ramblings here don’t make sense, and that’s fine but just for a moment I wanted to write on the hollow city. 

You Know Me

Written: 09/10/2018

The phrase is repetitive 

Ringing in every ear

To whoever is near

It's a pitiful phrase 

That began for a chance

Way beyond what is deserved

At any point in this speech

This turn of phrase is said

Run. Run. Run. Run. 

It'll repeat as chances

Repeating a cycle of tolerance

And acceptance

For the price of friendship

Or love from a ghost

Of a human being begging

"you know me" 

When really they stopped 

Knowing who you are. 

Thank you for reading one of my poem/prose pieces. I hope to perform more of these online and at events, but for now if you’re interested in reading more original work please check out my website Jadedisland. I host poetry, short stories, and community excerpts there. My writing can be found on Medium and in the co-produced Anthology “Atrocious Cranberries”. Likes, shares, and comments appreciated.

Mixtape Friendship

Written 05/10/18

Doll it out, advertise it, market the kindness in every track. Sell it like an addiction, but disguise it as a trend. 

I'm kind, I love your outfits, we are the best of friends. I'll take care of you until the end, we are ride or die. 


Track one, completed the introduction and the lure of an intimacy in a friendly relationship seduction. 

Track two, the first memory, at last, a memory to last lifetimes. 

Track three, the first slip up, why did they do this to me?

Track four, forgiveness cause it'll be fine.

Track five, memories to hold you in place. 

Track six, fuck. 

Track seven, messed up again, more slip up...begging for forgiveness. 

Track eight, the whispers to other people. The rumors and fake smiles

Track nine, they stop listening but were you ever listened to?

Track Ten, times up, they are gone. 


Bonus Track you're left wondering where you went wrong, as the memories flood in with the orchestra serenading one last diss track. 


Welcome to the toxic friendship mixtape. 

- MC Empress Jade

Primal Woman (2016)

Written 12/03/16

Primal woman your ebony skin inspires

from the gold on your wrists to red desires

flushed on your queued lips lingers taste

for life. blessed are the curves not a waste

on a body we will never shackle and wife

for you goddess are so divine and vital 

to the facets of pubescent dreams in title

the core of weaponized sexual ability

to seduce the man to bow to your whims

and weaken his resolve to stay fertility

for another night in barbaric sexual brawls

that in the light of a new day dim

see him kneel, see him beg and crawl

what have you done primal woman

that you lead those astray from ringed

fingers and create the idolized totem

of buxom breast and unrestrained lusts

destroying the sanctity of court trusts