I’ve made sure the windows are painted
That was step one
I have to open my metal door to see
The world, the dying summer
Because it can’t leak into here
                   I am so broken I make myself believe this
And that
Love conquers the weak too

Step two is ignoring the bony girl and her crystal ball eyes holding
The pit-bull with the
Bleeding leg
                    And I believe, because my soul
                     Has been left in some purse or backseat
                     That the dog doesn’t know anything about pain

Step three is admitting that I’ve set fire to sunflowers
Because I thought, I knew, they could take it

Step four is putting God inside of an air-seal jar
For 3 to 6 weeks on my bedside table
While I tear into thin laughs

Step five is pretending to know
                   Pretending there was life in the dead leaves
                         Burnt orange and burnt red

Step six is climbing from under the bed trying
To be oh so quiet
                Because it’s midnight and that
                Glass-cut boy you’re ******* on
                Isn’t making any noise
Step seven is collecting dust

Step eight is sharing a pillow half-heartedly
Reading about bedbugs at night
Trying to chase the visions of your bare neck
    Glowing
Stirring her awake
And go south to fight off winter

Step ten is spitting pesticide on the spring dandelions
   They (you) are flowers, they (you) are sycophants
    They (you) are beautiful, they (you) are weeds

Step eleven is burning the bridge
Where I had to pull off
your dress to
Keep myself on

Step twelve I’m half-awake
In a puddle of my own fake blood, in everyone’s blood
Calling the doctor for blue-black sleeping pills
You won’t come looking for me
You’re busy
Sleepwalking away from misery