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
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
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?”
But the stains will drive me crazy.
Warm mornings, new mug in hand,
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.