Posted on August 23 2015

Throwback to a poem I wrote at 21 when I took a year off of college, moved to Honolulu, Hawaii with my boyfriend at the time and a group of friends to 'find myself' or at the very least, to explore who I was, while seemingly postponing the inevitability of what I considered adulthood aka post graduation. 1998 proved to be a year of first's... First I'd ever been in love, first 9-5 job, first tattoo, first acid trip (compliments of an epic Christmas light show), and the first time I gave myself permission to turn up the volume; on life! Downtown Honolulu  Long slender legs, awkward knees, racing double steps to brass doors ahead, torching cigarettes as daily rituals for the dead... This world I see, bleeds through glass walls. Stained blue rings form upon busy faces, discolored not by the blue in the sky, nor by the wailing blues of man's melodic cries... This world I despise, lies through glass walls. If not one or another, is it then fair to say? these blues, they reside from souls gone astray... This world I view, bruised through glass walls. Why? So many faces of aging distress, forming permanent yet distinguished lines, blood flowing through veins trapped by dreams of 9-5... This world I fear, near, through glass walls. Cars passing swiftly on crowded streets, no time to smell the roses I suppose, with monthly mouths to feed and begging bones to clothe... This world I befriend, again and again through glass walls. Shall emancipation lie parallel to survival, or am I mistaken in my thinking, that freedom must lie still in fear of sinking, sinking, sinking... This world, inevitably yet protectively my world through glass walls.
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