By Chris Tse
Time never caught up with us, and we never fell in with time.
We slip
through the neon-lit bones of our city only to find ourselves
repeating the nights
and weekends that have gone before. It’s becoming
harder to stay
amazed by the things we’ve always craved, but we still
go along
with each beat like our lives depend on it. Nights alive
mean something is real.
It means bags of greasy fries crusted with chicken salt
that always end up seasoning our clothes.
It means running into the friends we didn’t invite
in clubs groaning with bodies.
It means excuses, screaming matches, promises
to be kinder
and stories we’ll wash from our hair and scrape
from our soles.
Did it ever matter who told the story or who took
the picture in the first place?
Once either gets out, it’s in the hands of the restless few
who might do something with it.
And nothing is ever done. We wait for the air in this place
to swallow us—names, habits, moods—
until it’s unbearable to even think about. There’s nothing
better—so they say.

Maisie wears Dylan McCutcheon-Peat pinstripe vest and matching pant/ Kowtow Choreography jumper/ Tia Feng boots.
Miron @Kirsty Bunny Management wears Tia Feng skirt and matching bloomers / Gestutz sweatshirt / Kowtow ribbed top / Xoe Hall custom jacket / Dr Martens Boots - borrowed / vintage transistor radios worn as bangles.
Team - Photography: James O'Neill / Styling and creative direction: Sonia Sly / Hair and makeup: Michele Perry / Backstage assistance: Saba Girmay and Bex McGill.
Special thanks: John Roberts, James Gilberd, J&M Takeaways, and Chris Tse.

Chris Tse, photo by Rebecca McMillan
Nights Alive was written by Chris Tse who is a poet and occasional food blogger based in Wellington. He's the author of two poetry collections published by Auckland University Press: How to be Dead in a Year of Snakes (finalist at the 2016 Ockham New Zealand Book Awards and winner of the Jessie Mackay Award for Best First Book of Poetry) and HE'S SO MASC, which was launched at Writers and Readers Festival in March.