Jadedisland
A Kawaii Memoir

Poetry

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Posts tagged Jadedisland
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. 

ID’s Natural Market

Written 04/19/18

The affliction of lust, boils the blood intimately.  Driving skin to crave warm caresses, and dive in the decadence of soiled sheets.


The pleasure of innocence lost, and knowledge at the climax. Perhaps it’s a study session in climaxes. There is intricacy in connection at the apex of smooth thighs, or decibels of pleasure ridden cries.


Smut dripping smiles, that beckon the weary to experience a physical inquiry. One that rides, and dines in all the right places leaving sticky faces.


The mess of lust is a market of fine dining, and workouts that leave us all breathless. Riddled with intensity or laughter, or hushed words of love in the middle.


The things said during the dance of sweaty bodies, the ones that leave the mind curious if there’s more beyond the decadence of touches and thrusts. Unaware that even here there is no trust.


The sheets don’t hold promises, only the mess of quick orgasms and unsatisfaction. The pillow talk, mindless in its abandoned insertions of the faces never staying long. The truth of intimacy is not a place to belong when the soul is searching for love on the wrong tongue.

 

- Lost in you, Jade 🌵 

Like Tired Roses

 Written 02/26/18 

I am tired. All my roses have died, but I remember their petals and essence along my body. I remember the color like I remember their memories. The sensation of their heat on my worn hands lingers over my violin strings. The glass that held cupid's love, is filled with lukewarm attentions and murky messages. So you see,I am tired of love that comes in the form of dying flowers. I cling to their form, seeking the eternal. I cling to their form lusting for the immortal.

How I miss these roses, those delicate petals, the ones that carcassed like fairies on my skin and danced like sin in my bathwater. While I desire the truth, for why my love in you inspires. I would much rather feel that you love yourself more than you love a woman like me. I’m that woman who smiles at flowers, and kisses the thorns away, bleeding in loyalty, treating that soul like royalty. I am the garden, I am your home, one day you’ll realize the tears that built this place were not created alone. The tears that built who I am, came from the memories of tired blood-red roses. 

 

- Jade 🌹