I say “Hi, my name is Taryn”

As if that means something;

And I guess to me it does.

Why can’t you see the roller-coaster

Rising up off the page where I signed my name?

My highs and lows laid out there for all of the world

To see in five little letters.

Five letters to say I love

Fairytales and pornography.

Five letters to say I hate

Feminism and misogyny.

I barely saw you, lurking in the shadowed corner,

Like a phantom, under that hood,

And I knew that I wanted you.

Can’t you see that I am terrified of my dreams?

That I am often seduced by my nightmares

Into trying to build a future out of

What most would recognize is a one night stand?

Glitter and the watery fragments of the moon’s reflection;

I believe that sparkling things are religion.

I hoard faith, keeping it in the pockets of little black dresses

Or under the tongues of leopard print Doc Martins.

A venture capitalist I buy stock in fantasy,

Cotton bound wood pulp and ink.

I invest in them and their parasitic

Words sink into my skin from the page

Until they become real. Me.

But am I real? Maybe when I say

“Hi, my name is Taryn.”

It means something more.

Can you see me?

Am I real or am I Bohemian Rhapsody?

Can you tell me?

Introduce me.

Looking into the mirror I say,

Hi, my name is Taryn.

Who are you?

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