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There’s a need for severe repetition
And when objects are out of position
A ritual practice
Restores the exactness:
Obsessive compulsive condition
I spent hours meticulously reworking the syllables on this one. And still, it feels unfinished.
Hide Nov 1
I used to hate-
How I stayed within the lines,
In the pictures I portrayed.
I used to hate-
How I thought once, twice, three times,
And still could not decide,
What I wanted to make.
I used to hate-
The bubble I was stuck in,
The structure I never punctured,
The rules in my head,
Like some wings I could not spread;

While I observed the beautiful swirling imperfect creations of my peers,
Who would draw on their Converse - add piercings to their ears;
Magical and free. I admired their creativity,
As I let the gas settle back in my shaken-up bottle,
Thinking will I eventually run out of throttle?
Grabbing moments of impulsivity, always followed by second, third and fourth thoughts -
Till they pass, and I'm back to my indecisive self.

But now I like my thought-out decisions,
I like the tasks I deem worthy to finish.
Not as free as my peers, and I still like their beauty-
But this world need us both: the fun and the duty.
Today,
I stay and reflect.
Like the mirrors floating on a pond, wandering in focus.

At times I am hopeless, distraught, and dazed, pondering.

I'll stop you there, you sad, beaten man.
Do you feel the seas trod upon you, drown you and let you swim further, and further just to regret, forget why you even began?

The shining at the deepest depths is merely a mirror to self-reflect,
to pay respects to what you wish you were.

Did you forget why you're here? Because, in truth, I never forget what I never knew,
why the sky feels the need to fall in disrespect, all upon your war-torn shoulders,
buckling under that very sigh you set free when you realized you're the traitor here, as you just get colder.

varied sighs sing you lies of peace,
poor Icarus, he tried to fly, to plead the sun, to chase infinity.

Do you truly seek peace? You try to run yet create your own inevitabilities, seized by your own dreams. With these ****** knees you've built yourself. Scorned by warnings of your self fulfilling prophecies.

You said so yourself.

First,
find what you need,
then perhaps your ever elusive peace may come,
and bring you to your knees,
to drown in seas of relief.
The war is not over,
Just another day.
ht May 2018
There's popcorn on the ceiling,
a million bajillion clusters that I've spent days trying to count.
In the 1950's these ceilings exploded into popularity.
And until 1977, homeowners blasted asbestos covered popcorn toward the sky, letting mesothelioma fibers fall back to their floor like it was harmless dust.
I take a deep breath, letting the air settle deep in my chest before letting it back out.
My ceiling is probably not made of asbestos.
It's probably styrofoam or some other cheap, paper-based product.
I take another deep breath.
The EPA banned the use of asbestos in these ceilings.
Apparently, inhaled in large quantities, asbestos causes lung disease, lung scarring, and lung cancer.
Another deep, deep breath.
I continue counting the probably not cancer causing popcorn.
I wonder if I would be able to feel the particles swimming in my lungs like fiber glass–thin, delicate, sharp.
I wonder if it would **** me.
I wonder if my family would file a claim like you see on those old commercials screaming,
"If you or a loved one developed mesothelioma you, yes you, could be entitled to compensation."
Or, something like that.
Breathe.
The air tastes funny.
My ceiling is most likely not made of asbestos.
But, I probably wouldn't care if it was.
I went down a weird internet spiral and now I know a lot about different kinds of ceilings | h.t.
Jane Nov 2021
You think I'm pretty? You don't think I should change?
Not by a single gram I won't, I promise Anna.

It's my friend Anna, she's always here for me.
Anna, I don't want to think, tell me what to do,
Yes, thank you Anna, I'll calculate those for you.

Did you say I look perfect Anna?
I can maintain perfect by being perfect.
I can be precise Anna, I promise, don't leave.

Anna, that's a lot of calculating.
Sorry Anna, you're right, perfection takes hard work.
I'm unafraid of toil.

Anna, I'm worried Anna, I can't stop feeling.
Think? I can over think to stop the feeling.
I'll gladly overthink than to over feel.
You're right Anna, I can numb it.

Anna, I'm craving something.
You're right Anna, I will never have that.

Anna, I never told you what I craved.
I craved love Anna, I craved safety.
I'm hungry for a meaningful life Anna.
Please feed those to me.

Why don't you give me what you promised Anna?
You became a liar Anna, but love is blind and I need you.

Speak for me Anna, lie for me Anna.
Anna others want to feed me, Anna, I don't know what they're feeding me Anna, stop them, it's unsafe where it's uncertain.

Yes, what Anna said, I already ate.
When?
Anna, they're catching on Anna, do something.

Anna, I'm hungry, Anna.
I've been keeping you alive to keep myself dead.

Anna please,
I starved myself, to feed Anna.
Thomas Steyer Jul 2021
Painting abstract and expressive
often on formats quite impressive
when my use of red is too excessive
I get agitated and feel a bit aggressive
might as well do my taxes, so depressive
then I start tidying or other things obsessive
eventually a cup of tea can feel decompressive
Luna Maria Dec 2020
I've been staring at the word
"online"
under your contact name
for the past hour
its staring back at me
I'm desperately waiting for a reply
(nothing)
i let jealousy take me over
because I know you're texting her
instead of me.
you're both online and i'm just here crying.
Lydeen Dec 2020
Nighttime.
Cars light up my room.

I count.

The moon keeps me awake,
Beaconing.

I can hear you.

Telling me to do it-
Hurt me, you, them...

Everyone.

Thoughts SCREAMING.
Words begging to become actions.

I close my eyes.

Deep, deep, deep breath.
It's just a thought.

Grounded.

Soft sheets, pillows...
Moon, stars, lights.

It's quiet.
:-)
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