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Grace Haak Apr 5
I knew it was bad when my fingernails were ringed
with red
as I ran them over ribbons and excused myself
from confetti cake to make them

my head was burning
a sparkling candle burning
my hands were yearning
a spazzing sticking yearning

my family was singing
a muffled stifling singing
my ears were ringing
a loud ear-piercing ringing

stop stop stop my scalp is stinging

Nothing was clear until my fingernails
were red
and coated with pieces of my head:
rubbed raw and picked clean
You’re telling me
this is something you haven’t seen?

It doesn’t make sense because:
I don’t put pencils in a perfect pristine line
I don’t count my cheerios before I can dine
I can turn the lights on and off just fine
but my fingernails
are red
and apparently that’s a sign.

I can tell you where
every single pinprick lives
and spreads fire down my scalp
into my brain
How it tells me
your math homework can wait
save me
or you’ll go insane

My nails are short
but still red
My brain is intact
but still missing its head

Oh, how I could See the Disorder in a
demented disturbed decision
to forfeit my favorite vanilla cake
for blood

stop stop stop, i’m begging you, brain

you can’t stop; you know you need pain
leave me alone, and you’ll go insane.
milkweedangel Mar 29
i'm counting by threes
and i'm hurting my hands
but i can't let you die
you must understand
my silly little brain tells me washing in sets of threes will save us all
I'm not entirely here
I'm trapped somewere
Living half aware
Hanging between the realities
Sitting in a room
A waiting room
Yellow and warm
Tense and eternal
Safe but never ending
Reality twisted
Overactive imagination
There is no door
But I can leave at any time
Only one way
Find my inner peace
Idk, is it derealisation?
Nigdaw Mar 17
the blind is broken
on the back door
where I try the handle
maybe one two three four
times before bed
my foot treads
wear a furrow
into carpet pile
patrolling by the mile
a circuit I navigate
from door to window
and back again
checking checking
my doorbell's camera eye
spies on the street outside
intruder alerts on my phone
warn of incoming......
all so I can complete
a nights sleep
with one ear open
tossing turning
I have covered all eventualities
except the Bogeyman
in my head
under the bed
OCD, it will always haunt me!
kw Feb 28
thought enters.
& repeats,
& repeats,
& repeats,
& repeats,
& repeats,
until another comes to take its place,
filling up the cluttered space
inside my mind.
a hoarder's den of memories i don't wish to find,
& others lost to passing time.
i'm not much of a poem writer but i think it could be a good outlet.
kay Feb 8
did you notice i skipped thirteen?
I want so badly to be me enough
That it doesn't matter how crazy I am.
In a world full of deadlines and assignments,
I often wonder if I am getting credit for my life.
Did I pass the exam because I didn't want to die today?
Am I succeeding for inhabiting a level state of consciousness?
Will I be penalized for the fatigue or the anxious habits,
The inevitable compulsions?
Do they see below my skin where the turmoil lays?
Are my bones enough to hold me up under the weight
Of my perfectionism and pressure for success?
Am I too slow or different in a world that demands I exist in a system?
Am I enough in the course of Planet Earth?
Is who I am what they want,
And does it matter?
Is there extra credit for taking a shower and complying with medication?
Professor, did I achieve an A?
Shorono Jan 11
I close my eyes and bow my head
My thoughts will slip and let them in
The demons of my own creation
Whipping me for imagined sins
"It's just a thought."
"It's just an image."
But still I make the demanded pilgrimage.
A triple lock.
A double check,
Compulsive look under the bed.
Oh, how strange!
Silly me!
Yet, I go.
I must repeat.
Therapist says I have OCD.
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