An OCD poem I wrote

(I figured a lot of us could relate, so, here it is)

Once, my brain functioned at a relatively normal level of typical drawling white noise and had an imagination
that out grew my skull with vines and air
and the idea that one day I’d reach higher and be better than the life I saw.

Contrary to my belief, my brain was about to form a cast around it’s self
between vessels and the inner workings of my skull with determination and perfect precision
to encapsulate every thought I hate alongside fear while reminding me
that my hands must move right, right, left left, right right, left left.
It would tell me that if I jumped out of a window, the outcome would be interesting.
I could walk right in front of a car.
I could kick an animal. Do it, do it.
Your bones could be crushed if you sit like that.

The cast became a map of intrusion and numerical repetitiveness
that left me tongue tied,
limb tied,
and exhausted,

Deterioration is my minds greatest consummation.
You live while that cast thickens and breeds pages
of an atlas five stories high which your brain then tells you
to jump from because you’re afraid.

All misconstrued information that lights your brain in neon’s,
painting the only pretty picture that could come from this all since your hands are too busy
knocking,
twisting,
pulsing,
holding.

You realize, with a heavy head,
that you’re safe without,
and safe within.

I like it!