physics in the vending machine

show your teeth

i’ve always been mesmerized by physics in the vending machine. to me, watching the candy tumble down is the best part.

it’s pretty smooth sailing in a comfort zone as non-delineated as mine. i don't have a stake in the game, never even got the point of it, but learning how to play came easily. still, things get boring without a finish line. as soon as i’ve shapeshifted to fit in a round hole, i itch to turn square.

but how many times can one start over, really? each time i rise again, it’s out of the ashes of all those bridges i’ve burned. it’s hard to feel brand new when all you can ever be is a calico of past lives.

i’m not incorrigible, i think, it’s just that no one cares to correct me. i’ve been quiet quitting life, my arms held out in front of me, waiting for a slap on the wrist. i never thought i’d get away with doing so little. i think it’s just that no one cares.

come on, world. i’ve been screaming fuck you to your face, and still, nothing? i’ve been tempting fate, pushing luck, stretching patience, and still, nothing?

show your teeth, world, i’ll show you mine. i thought it was eat or be eaten, but it seems to be neither as of late. tell me, how many turns must a candy bar make before it reaches hungry hands?

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