The Flood

OCD is in the top ten most debilitating illnesses in the world. It dictates manipulates and seduces you to think you’re saving a life, doing good and being healthy.

Truth, it’s killing the sanity of the host. Feeding its vanity that it’s valued and needed with every compulsion. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Don’t underestimate how it affects someone. It consumes the soul, an actual living hell being acted out day by day.

It exaggerates life for the host to act out it’s pleasures.

It controls and scares you into believing it’s reality. When the anxiety of an obsession hits, it’s like a flood to the head…

The Flood.

Back and forth in doorways
Three o’clock deep in the night
In and out my body swayed
Not sleeping to I felt just right
Turning lights on and off
Turning taps so much tighter
Wearing six tops in summer
Staring at a torch, turning it brighter
Under all these layers this is me
I’m no different, I just have OCD

Not stepping on the carpet
Paining myself and cutting my hair
Putting clothes on again and again
The same ones for a week, I have to wear
Light switches too and thro’
Washing rehashed and flung about
Walking backwards on the football field
I’m saving the world ain’t no doubt
Under all these layers this is me
I’m no different I just have OCD

Not able to read or write normal
Repeating words and crossing off
Having compulsions in school exams
Having to blink, having to cough
The school tie was pulled up tight
Along with the top button on my shirt
Couldn’t breath and sweated badly
Doesn’t make sense, it really hurt

A Life dictated by numbers
With fear, dread and impending doom
Imagination susposed to be a gift
But for me more like a living tomb

No-one ever asked, people’s reality different to mine
Became an expert in hiding, so bittersweet divine
Stuck in an endless, ignorant cycle of fright
Cant love, leave,or live until the feeling feels just right.

A moment of clarity

Stood high, naked and hollow from emotion
Tempting nature to take me by force
Releasing blame from my conscience.
As the cold gripped reality
Only then did I know what you meant to me.
Feeling as if I knew all along
I flew
Drifting out to sea.
My reflection blinking out of the past and in to the future.
I am a warrior with a weakness to the armour
A biological fault passed on father to son
Critical in thinking, doomed to dwell.
Fate handed me physical strength
That my mind tries to breach
Bombing the soul mentally
Clouding confidence with doubt.
It feels sometimes
I’m turning inside out.
Churning to an enormous swell
Erupting often for all to see.
I don’t hate myself
I have an addiction for perfection
Obsession with clarity and certainty.
Truth as always
Speaks through the heart
Channels to the soul in the most simplest of forms.
Without verse I would of ended life
Using violence to signify my silence
Using death to create reaction.
Finally and tentatively, I chose the written word
Willing and grateful to be understood
But if not so be it, my mind is no more defined
By my thoughts being heard

The Flood

Back and forth in doorways
Three o’clock deep in the night
In and out my body swayed
Not sleeping to I felt just right
Turning lights on and off
Turning taps so much tighter
Wearing six tops in summer
Staring at a torch, turning it brighter
Under all these layers this is me
I’m no different, I just have OCD

Not stepping on the carpet
Paining myself and cutting my hair
Putting clothes on again and again
The same ones for a week, I have to wear
Light switches too and thro’
Washing rehashed and flung about
Walking backwards on the football field
I’m saving the world ain’t no doubt
Under all these layers this is me
I’m no different I just have OCD

Not able to read or write normal
Repeating words and crossing off
Having compulsions in school exams
Having to blink, having to cough
The school tie was pulled up tight
Along with the top button on my shirt
Couldn’t breath and sweated badly
Doesn’t make sense, it really hurt

A Life dictated by numbers
With fear, dread and impending doom
Imagination susposed to be a gift
But for me more like a living tomb

No-one ever asked, people’s reality different to mine
Became an expert in hiding, so bittersweet divine
Stuck in an endless, ignorant cycle of fright
Cant love, leave,or live until the feeling feels just right.

Frozen Fruit

Takes a special kind of person
To turn their back on blood
A frozen shell that never breaks
Holding back the emotional flood

Would it spark a bit of love
If we all started to cry?
I feel that chapters been read
The words turning to a lie

You break a branch then climb
Damaging the family tree
Moving to a new orchard
Happy to be free

Never caring to look back
Even though you planted the seed
I guess I’ll never know
If your heart slowly bleeds.

The End.

When family doesn’t want to understand your mental health. When they’ve moved on, remarried and in their eyes starting with a clean slate.

I’ve found you can’t warm the coldest of hearts or change the most empty of minds.

Treading Water

Choose to climb
and escape the stone walls
that close in
like a dampening breath to the neck,
The goosebumps are real
coldness can’t be faked
neither can the dread which creeps from below,
Move or perish
from the hesitant pause
that captures indecisive minds
freezing the will to submission.
So climb,
Or leave it to fate,
Let go and fall in to emptiness
become weightless in body and mind,
Float down star shaped
with eyes unable to close
as you look upward bidding farewell
to life,
part of the punishment of surrendering to hell,
Light dissolves in seconds
free falling in to darkness
to an eternal expanse.
Deviant whispers from nowhere
keep you from sleep
and peace,
A choice to make,
Fall and drown forever as a prisoner
or climb and fight.

Progress

Never had a lot of range,
From behaving odd to very strange,
Pained expression for all to see,
Just hearing the call of the Banshee,
Endless whispering of far away prattle,
Leading up to a head blown death rattle.

Being alone hasn’t eluded,
Map of destruction points to secluded,
Best friends a dark reflection,
Shadow cut out to add to collection,
A demeaning job, a binned life,
Baggaged husband, shouldered wife.

Friends of history a quiet distant,
Personal contact set on resistant,
Winding slope, an inclining bend,
Kill me as I can’t seem to end,
Persevered efforts, too many to mention,
Seeking truths now I have your attention.