I drew the second third line
A first fourth one is on deck
Knew I inked them finely fine
Still, I go check and recheck

Marvelously filleted corners
Cleave an unsettling sound
Put compass back on paper
Just to make sure it's round

Anxiety was bound to happen
To the fifth first line I go back
Again, I sharpen and sharpen
But I give up, made it all black

Perfection is not my liberty
But a numb skin I wish to flay
Half of my mind seeks symmetry
Yet the other  half  
                                 is    in
                                          disarray

First off, it won’t go away
Simple as that
It burrows inside your head
Like a Chinese finger trap
(I’ve never seen one but I know
what they are like)
Or perhaps a camel’s thorn
Another thing I’ve heard of

Occasionally you find relief
Maybe two minutes or even less
Maybe up to five hours
But it always comes back
At least for that day

You want to scream
To plead, to cry, to beg it to stop
But of course it won’t
It’s OCD, are you kidding?
Of course it won’t
No matter how hard you try
And believe me, you do try

You try not to compulse because
You know that’ll make it worse
You imagine a drill going
Through your brain, destroying your thoughts

It’s illogical, but that’s OCD
Normally, when things are illogical
You don’t trust them
You brush them aside
Knowing they aren’t true
That they can’t be

But with OCD you believe it’s true
And you don’t want it to be
And it might not be
But it also might be true
And as the day goes on
You’re more and more afraid
That it is

You live in fear of yourself
For you are hating yourself
Your possible truths
You tell yourself
That you aren’t your thoughts
Thoughts aren’t actions
But you can never be sure
Of what you think

It’s the doubting disease
Leaving scratches up your forearm
And that’s why
It’s ocd

Why is it that love is so easily confused,
With a multitude of other experiences?
Perhaps we identify love as the feelings we hope are truly it,
Through the fear of acknowledging them for what they truly are.
Obsession, desperation, a projection and dependence of self-worth?
We dodge calling the *****, a *****.

My Ocd is flipping switches,
My adhd is pulling pupet strings,
My brain is on vaction for most of the day,
and when he comes home it's night,
his favorite time to party.....
I get no rest,
And tomorrow there's a flippin' test!

I'm searching but I can't find
A single life
That wants to deal with mine.

I have a problem, you see.
I own objects like blankets
I cannot sleep without,
Headphones 4 inches thick
To cancel the noises that
Wake up every nerve in my body
That make me shake and bite my nails

I own stubs for fingers
With cuts and chewed skin.
They run across my forehead
To stop the thoughts from occurring.

I count,
Correct the other side
When someone touches my skin.
I make sure every first letter
In the next line of poetry
Is capitalized,
Cause that's a rule.

I agonize over small things
Because as a kid,
No one helped me.
I was too nervous to play in the hose
Or turn on the shower
Because my family would drown.
The ritual began even then.

At 6 I could not play baseball
Because in the outfield
I would tic and make my nose bleed.

I can't even breathe without
Bothering this disease.
One lung does not fill up like the other,
And I get dizzy.

I have a scar on my forehead
From completing this ritual for years.
I fear
And feel.
Why do I fall victim to this disease?
God, I would pray but my hands can hardly
Touch each other without the horrible feeling.

I tap on my forehead
The middle is where it starts
I tap on the floorboards
Therefore my mind leaks
Through the floorboards.
Comatose
Most know the idea
By most I mean me
You see, no one knows
That all I touch breaks.

I click my pen again and again
Again and Again and Again
click click click click click
but it still doesn't feel right
and the world is about to end
A thousand times I'll tell you that I don't know
I don't know I don't know I don't know
I'm so frustrated
But I can't stop talking
I don't know are my favorite words
and my most indecisive enemy
I wiggle my legs
up and down and down and up and up and down
I'll twist my feet
point my toes and swirl my foot around to make the shape of a heart
make the shape of a heart
make the shape of a heart
make the shape of a heart
Again and Again and Again and Again
You ask me what I'm doing but
I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know
A million times I'll blink my eyes
a million tries
to blink my eyes
Blinking and Blinking and Blinking
but none of those tries leads to triumph
because I still feel absolutely horrible
and my world is about to end
Six times
Nine times
Three times
I leap out of bed and I run to stand in the hall
but my mind tells me to go back to my room and I do
and then my mind tells me to go to the hall
and I stand there and then I run back
What am I doing?
I don't know I don't know I don't know
Why? Why? Why?
STOP
Stop asking that question
I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it
a million times over I hate it
But in the end I'm still stuck in the hall
clicking a pen
jumping up and down
Obsessing and allowing the Compulsions to eat me alive
and end my world