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?
Looking into the mirror I say,
Hi, my name is Taryn.
Who are you?