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I want you to know me like this:
Tying me up, by my
wrists and my ankles, splayed, medical,
Cold metal tools to the skin,
Cut me open and see
My insides constructed, not
Skilfully, but carefully,
The artificial parts are clean,
And crying to be known again.
 Apr 2013 Rylie Rose
Angie Acuña
When we first met, after proper introductions, you asked me who I was.
"But what do you mean?", I asked, "I just told you who I was."
"No", you said.
"Who are you?"

So I lifted my arms and rolled up my jeans.

"Here", I said.
"This is my story.
These are not scars, oh no.
They are much more than that.
These marks are my scratched out words and mistakes on blank pages.
They are the words that I said wrong and still had time to erase.
Except for that one, I fell off my bike here.

If you must read, please do so carefully.
My pages are a little fragile from the abuse caused by the wrong people reading me.
I still have a doggy ear fold from one who never finished reading."
This was written as a spoken word poem.
 Sep 2012 Rylie Rose
mads
Sit with a blank stare,
Mechanical chest,
In... Out.
In... Out.
Throbbing of a sore heart
Da dum.
Da dum.
Left foot twitches;
Itching
To walk the world.
Despondent minds.
Blink once, stare.
Sit and stare.

From across the dim
Hazy room,
I ask,
"What...
What are you...
Waiting for?"

Quietly, you answer,
Careful not to break
Your intense stare.
"Here, I wait
For the world to change,
For it to accept me
And my failed attempts
To be something more."
Enjoy this mindless mess.
Tempestuous longings from behind the screen of life’s moving picture
You stare back at me, in a glimmering, shimmering afterthought
Laid low by foregoing passion
In a moment’s torrid glimpse from our hollow reflections
Fragrant evenings during seasons of filming
Solemnly captured and revised then experienced
The all encompassing struggle with context and setting
Abides a steely night, in the rustle of autumn branches
Requiem for an unremitting beloved!
Sung in the valley between piercing peaks of sorrow
She floats through the scene as distinct aura and vague essence
An embrace from the trail of vapors and misspent gestures
All emanating from a glass of cider beneath nostrils
Gracefully, you embank on the wind of time’s shadow
And nudge my cheek with impetus and vigor
Lashing out at my skin in ambivalent revelry
As if my follicles were vacuous caverns
Catching the callous moments which flutter the ***** of hillside tents
The unearthly gusts of banality extinguish the projector’s gleam
While nature embodies your beauty furthermore
Toward the end of the pathway
And the credits of the film
And the allegro of the score
And the solitude of eternity
And the rustling of the branches

— The End —