Now I can’t stop the water from running over the sink

Or the bathtub

Or through windows on late nights

 

I hear the rushing waters calling over my shoulder and feel the oceans in my boots. 

You ask me why I’m never wearing shoes, why it takes so god damn long for me to move.

 

Now I can’t stop the fabric from peaking out of drawers. 

Or overflowing dresser tops.

Or whispering the privacies I wish I could hold onto.

 

You ask if I’ll ever put on a suit,

Let you train me too,

But I won't let those rushing waters fill breast pockets, 

Pressuring my heart.

 

Sometimes I feel like my kitchen sink.

So open and flooded with things that feel so alive inside.

 

Sometimes I feel like my dresser.

This mass taking up space that I made from the ground up

that’s why the drawers don’t sit straight. 

Always trying to contain the contents within. 

 

Sometimes I feel.

Sometimes I think. 

Sometimes I can’t make it stop for a drink. 

Sometimes my mind dehydrates my body.

Sometimes I forget to breathe

                                      or eat.

 

My head constantly flooded with should’s and shouldn’t’s 

But almost never “should breathe”

For me, this is OCD. 

 

 

There are things people say that stick with me

That drill into me like nails in a coffin - screwing with me.

And they come up every now and again 

Loosen

Ask to be tightened

 

And i want to say no

But again they drill with an obsessive hand

 

What happens when you put oceans in a dresser

 

I can tell you for certain Ikea never made a water resistant drawers 

Because i have want-to-be empty tea mugs

spilling over and soaking through thin wood bottoms 

Puddles stained around the corners

 

“Why don’t you just empty them?” 

I cant. 

 

But the stains will drive me crazy.

Warm mornings, new mug in hand,

I stare

Resting on door frames that are laughing at my lack of control

I could tell you I hear them mocking.

 

But then I worry what you’ll think of me. 

 

The one with the voices in her head. 

Don’t you have a voice in your head?

Perhaps one that doesn’t open the shades on everything you wish to keep in the dark

Maybe yours doesn’t remind you that no one ever thought you make it this far

and that they were probably right.

Mine tells me every broken-hearted phrase to fall off my mother's lips. 

Bombards me with cadences of of mistaken words and nervous comments

Those times I’ve said the wrong thing. 

 

And sometimes it whispers things I’ve never heard.

Words of others that aren’t spoken. 

Sometimes it breaks down every single syllable

of a simple sentence said to me. 

 

And sometimes everything means something and nothing means anything at all. 

And I forget to breathe.

For me, this is OCD.