i cant afford the therapy i need
so i take another drag
of stolen cigarettes and lips
that have no business near
my sharp tongue.
last year felt like you and i
were the only 2 alive.
this year i wish i could die
on command

Where are you
Inside my head
Why are you there
Because I can’t escape
When will you get out
I don’t know-maybe never
How did you get there
I let myself think

OCD is not an adjective
It’s not synonym for perfection
It can ruin a life or end one
It’s on par, just as bad as depression
The two often come hand in hand
With anxiety on the side
If you do that 13 times tomorrow your friend won’t die
If you only write on every 4th line
You won’t get sick and die
The demon that lives in my head is trying to save my life
But is instead destroying me from inside.