Perfection,
We will always strive for it,
But what for,
We can never obtain it,
We still try,
Because shooting for the moon,
Sometimes means,
That you will get super close,
But there is,
That feeling that you have failed,
Negative,
Even though you have come far,
You can’t see,
Because unattainable,
Is what counts
A new start,
Are you eager?
Why aren’t you?
It’s what you want,
Isn’t it?
What if I fail?
Not for me?
Say something dumb?
Offensive?
What if I cry?
Or lash out?
Think of them dead?
Or fucking?
I’m excited,
That’s the truth,
It’s time to start.
A slow and sluggish start sees me struggle to feel regular,
I reach over and grasp the comfort blanket and roll back round,
My eyes close and the healing process splutters so sedately,
And the fatigue seeps into all of my sinews and my bones,
A rasping voice from my mind beseeches me to just relax,
I let the heaviness weigh down on me like a kettlebell,
And I feel like I will never push past the slumber I’m in.
It’s time to break the shackles,
For a new ‘new’,
To push through that high ceiling,
And have no fear,
Fortune does favour the brave,
That’s not reckless,
That’s what life is all about,
Forget that voice,
That’s always bringing you down,
From in your head,
Or from somebody else’s,
The time is now,
Scream it as loud as you can.
Don’t blame me for all this
How was I supposed to know?
It isn’t my fault that the cracks are starting to show
I followed my heart right from the start
You expect me to do the research though?
The experts say this and the experts say that
And you know what? I’m sick to death of it
I am not wrong, I cannot be wrong
So fuck you, you little shit
I’ve been dozing around
That vice grip back again
And I forgot, sorry
I’ll make it up to you
If I remember though
It’s hard to recall things
When your mind works all day
The night sometimes as well
Oh well, what do they say?
Better late than never.
The sales pitch for growing up
Is a simple formula that’ll make you happy
Work hard, be smart, always smile
And everything will fall into place
Exercise, education equates to elation
But nobody mentions the things that hide round the corner
Nobody reads the fine print of chaos and disorder
What to do if your mind attacks you
What to say if you’re wasting away
You’ve signed up for it now, and life demands payment in full
When is sorry enough?
When do you let go and let yourself have the smooth with the rough?
Is self-flagellation the only sensation
When the temptation of past reviewing is too much?
The facade is certain, but beyond that curtain
Is a decay that has been set free
And like an old hotel that sits proud in an old seaside town
Are my best days really behind me?
You were only young
You were an evil child
It wasn’t that bad
The police should have been dialled
This is all out of proportion
There is something wrong with you
This is just a distortion
You’re a fuck up, too
You’re a lovely man
Your madness will foster
You can do what you can
Because you are (not) a monster
We are made up of all our choices
Of everything that we have done and said
And thought with ten thousand voices in our head
And which one we choose at any one time banishes the rest to eternity
And we grieve them, for one wrong step lays the rest to bed
That could have been a better us instead
And although we are all on the same journey
We dig each others graves
Because the dead tell no tales
The Poetry of OCD