I have to count my steps to stay on my feet
I have to hug you eight times so I know you’ll never leave
I have to check the doors
turn the nob three times to the right
now three times to the left
together now
we will count the knives
so that I don’t do something mad
and again we will lock each window
so that we are safe from everything bad
and don’t worry
I will get the oven
and the microwave
and the sink
and the other sink
and the other and the other and the other
and the candles
and the irons
and the fridge
and the door
and the car
and each one of their slowly moving chests-
I have to also count my breaths to assure that the next will come just like the first-
and all the ones that came before that one
and I know that this is something obvious that we both know
and that I already should for certain, because it is a given-
but you see
the calculator inside of my mind will not let me rest
unless
I do this right.
if I don’t follow through
I am punished.
thrown into the prison that is the walls of my brain itself-
you see,
my brain doesn’t know how to simply just be
without feeling the urge to do these things.
it tells itself that when these are complete
sweet rest will fall over me.
but how can I ever sleep peacefully
without counting the sheep
of eternity?
let me count the knives one more time
please
so I can tuck them sweetly
underneath the blanket of my skin tonight.
ilc