there is a downside to bedtime. i live a sort of nursery rhyme. catch me where the city lights are still burning hot. racing around the outsides of downtown. my answer is always and still. “i’m fine.” i’ll say it any way you want me to. any way it works. i just need the cab fare and a drink and then another. i enjoy staring at an expensive meal. “i’m fine.” i want you to take me to anywhere and keep me there so long as i am stimulated. i’ve been avoiding curfew for as long as i can remember. but then again my memory is shot and i feel like our anywhere is growing dull so we’re going to need to pack up and keep moving. “i’m fine.” VIP stands for vastly interrupted perspective and honestly, you’re just kind enough but i’m not looking for kind, i’m looking for a distraction, and the music here sucks. take me somewhere new. pour me another drink. lets go fucking skydiving. tell me that i’m not fucked up and that this is how the world works for everyone. tell me that my lying mouth and my “kindness of strangers” attitude aren’t manipulative. tell me this is a coping mechanism. tell me something i don’t know. there is a downside to bedtime, i’m growing tired of this nursery rhyme. but its fine. no, i’m fine. i’m fine.
photo ©Ari Abramczyk
