fight or flight

may 19th. wedding cans turned war drums. womb splits, clock starts, he’s already late. beautiful baby boy and his screaming purple face.

i ran out of time when i outgrew his arms. 

wood slams punctuation on every fight we never had

because fear makes better glue than love ever did.

i can be reprogrammed like an old TV, you just hit the side of it when the screen gets fuzzy (violence; the original HD). 

sorry wouldn’t fix the picture, but it might knock me unconscious long enough to miss the ending.