fumbled getting the key in the lock. took ‘bout five minutes before i heard the tumblers click – nesting in the notch’d metal. with gentle press, i swung the door open. light hit me, blind’d, as my perception bled in constant to the left. nothing seem’d to have it’s own place, or space. i would turn my head from the left, and the world would be right’d. stop’d movement, world bled left, and i went for the couch. “Where have you been?” the maternal commandant. “Where. Have. You. Been?” out. my left-most body felt stretch’d, felt warp’d. out. i’ve been out. “What’s wrong with you?” a seconds pause. “Are you ****’d up?” she’s got me. “You are ****’d up, aren’t you?” how obvious. dialogue never left mind through mouth. knowing better is ninety-percent of the solution. of the problem. “Who are you?” her voice rising. “Where is my son?” her voice peaking. “What have you done with Cole?” he’s taking a break from this, this… this reality. he need’d some time. she huff’d indignant, and turn’d to return to a yellow-lit kitchen where she hosts a friend. both ******, both drunk, both lost to me through slurs. But I am your son; bleeding left, pupils constrict’d. But I am your son; bleeding left, sour-smelling breath. I am your son. bleeding left, falling right, falling into the darkness of a thousand-year sleep.