I have a sinus infection and any time I get sick I pretend to be a Victorian woman on her deathbed
I put on a transatlantic affectation and say “Do not send for me.. I am going home… my time is here… farewell my darling”
And my boyfriend says Vivi please stop I don’t like that
I shall lie down at home
and pretend to be dying.
Then the neighbours will all come in
to gape at me, and, perhaps, she will come with them.
When she comes, I won't need a doctor,
she knows why I am ill.
i am sick in bed. to lay in your sick is to lay with your self. To lay with your quiet coughing and distorted voices from your phone and footfalls of other bodies in the house moving, shadows underneath the door a certain essence of a person unconfirmed until i open or crack a sliver and then i will know for sure. that it is not a spirit come to whisk me away but a hand knocking to offer me advil. so i dream wistlessly as i lay in my sick and i hope to go be small enough to live in the nests of flowers and plats at the greenhouse. But oh I must have my phone with me and a sketch book and my partner and some clothes- maybe a skirt. maybe i will have wings too and i will go visit friends from corners where they cant fully see me- shadows under the door i could be anything, anyone, until they open
When the bar or venue or whatever is underground and you have to descend into the place because you can say some shit like “We are entering the seedy underbelly of this wicked city” “You know,” *cig drag* “crime is only a left-handed form of human endeavor.”
And then your friends can be like “Viv, you can’t smoke inside Dude also where the fuck did you find a pipe and a fedora What are you even saying” Giving you the opportunity to respond with a
“Beat it toots, you’re too pretty for these streets anyhow”
Then you remember your friend already offered to pay for the Uber XL home and you have like 11 bucks so you drop the bit but the sentiment is still there below the surface
