Monologue

spoken word version - youtube.com/watch?v=sGseJ839l4M

Monologue

I am the thistle field under your bare feet, 

the dead end on a street with my name

When you take away my props and strip the wardrobe,

I’m a skeleton of lies, holding up convincing flesh

If we stare into each other I’ll be absent

Off somewhere, in a past tense

that’s making me sicker

Coughing up a young

me

from which the distance to now grows thicker