Separation anxiety is
step one.
Step two is
howling at the sun.
Step three is not listed, but
step four is understanding
what you are. And really
really really
I just wish I knew.
More than that,
more than all of it,
step five is the tricky part
the part beyond understanding that
toes the ocean and tests the temperature
and says "fuck it, let's go"
in the gap where you knew
you already knew
and were
killing time.
Step five
is
the burner. Fire, walk with me
the you inside that lives at all points
West and the Hollywood is beautiful
enough when you know
you live on the corner of Mulholland
and Velvet. Really though,
step five
is
bliss. The tooth shining
knife wiping nonsense
of being's justification
in little little tiny fucking words
in the thin hours of day break.
Vapors. And paper bags. And the shakes
that let you know you are still animal. And sometimes
human.
