Best Ocd Poems
Life is not as sweet as a bowl of golden glace cherries,
nor is there a golden illuminated future for a fruitless mind.
Trembling hands and gritted teeth disguise my disorderly brain,
feeling lost in the mist,
surrounded by drowned out voices.
Deceptive chanting charms plant everyday confusion,
with stalking emotions running through my mind's corridors,
carrying a voice that gives birth to eerie echoing funnels,
pumping frustrating thoughts deep into the depths of phobias.
My demeanour hides behind a canvass of mysteries.
a pure transfiguration, where compulsive obsession
takes possession of stalking my vulnerable affections.
There's too much repetition in the fluidity of periods and seasons,
as I lose this battle to control my will's strength of life.
I constantly wonder if the only place of victory,
to find peace,
is to slay silent intoxicating depths,
which desire to explore me.
But in reality despise me with conflicting contradictions unable
to stop my puzzled conscious suffocating from over analysing,
enslaving excessive dwellings from every aspect of my existence.
Life is not a jigsaw,
I do not have the energy to find every piece.
My soul's fine heaven is rimming with untold tales of nature,
but misjudged precious intentions result in distracted actions.
An angst which has no remedy as all scars remains unseen.
But my Fears are made into gems,
when alone with my nemesis,
an unwanted life long partner
feeding upon deranged dilemmas,
which keep my mind,
spiralling in circles of uncertainties.
In pursuit of imperfect perfection,
she slowly turned every lucky star blind,
drowning in constant chores from obsession,
unable to appease her stormy mind.
Promises ascend against perception,
nothing halts fixed rituals from spinning,
as turmoils of time twirl through aggression,
she sees the devilish mantra winning.
What is left when breathing becomes a pain?
whilst malignant fears urge for reliance,
spiky succulents perish faith in vain
frantically panicking in silence.
day bleeds into repetitive debate—
Emotive wildfires stir despair and hate.
emotive wildfires
appease her stormy mind blind
stir despair and hate
breathing becomes a pain~in the pursuit of imperfect perfection
Obsessive workers in their seat
An.al about documents neat
Choose never to rush
Or the toilet to flush
Unless the paperwork's complete
People enjoyed laughing at Adrian Monk
And his obsessive/compulsive disorder
Now I'll open the lid, come out of the trunk
I'll be a neat freak for my life's remainder
Like Mr. Monk, I can't tolerate a mess
Just one speck of dust and I must act quickly
With perpetual cleaning I am obsessed
I've a terrible fear of growing sickly
Neighbors call me the original "white glove"
But behind my back, I think they're mocking me
I'm paranoid too, not a trait I'm proud of
So welcome to my world of the OCD
Entry for Francine Robert's Tell Us Something We Didn't Know contest
Most compulsives have never confessed
There are thoughts with which we're obsessed
Our inner vision
Views with great precision
The women our eyes have undressed
I love living with my OCD,
But a disorder it is not.
I work in the local library you see,
Where books have their own spot.
I threw out the Dewey system,
And bought books with colourful spines.
And now every book is arranged in groups,
Under their colourful signs.
There’s red books and blue books, and
The groups of black, white and green.
So now the library is all organised,
Into a rainbowed sort of a theme.
Some folks seem to think I’m jumbled,
Creating a muddled type of mess.
But I disagree one hundred percent with them,
I am an ordered success.
Hi, this was written 11th Oct 2016 for contest 224 of and judged on 17th Oct hope you enjoyed this one :)
I'm a procrastinator with OCD.
I do nothing over and over again repeatedly.
This is in no way my poem, I'm not trying to take any credit for it.
I saw it on YouTube performed by Neil Hilborn.
The first time I saw her, everything in my head went quiet.
All the ticks, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared.
When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don't really get quiet moments.
Even in bed, I'm thinking "Did I lock the door? Yes. Did I wash my hands? Yes. Did I lock the door? Yes. Did I wash my hands? Yes." When I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips, or the eyelash on her cheek-
the eyelash on her cheek-
the eyelash on her cheek.
I knew I had to talk to her.
I asked her out 6 times in 30 seconds, she said yes after the third one but none of them felt right so I had to keep going.
On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color than I did eating, or f*cking, talking to her. But she loved it.
She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye 16 times, or 24 times if it was Wednesday.
She loved it took me forever to walk home because there are lots of cracks in our sidewalk.
When we moved in together, she said she felt safe, like no one would ever rob us, because I definitely locked the door 18 times. I'd always watch her mouth when she talked-
when she talked-
when she talked-
when she talked-
when she talked.
When she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the edges.
At night, she'd lay in bed and watch me turn the lights on and off and on and off and on and off and on and off and on and off and on and off. She'd close her eyes, and imagine the days and nights were just passing in front of her. Some mornings, I'd start kissing her goodbye but she would just leave because I was making her late for work.
When I stopped at a crack in the sidewalk she just kept walking. When she said she loved me, her mouth was a straight line. She told me I was taking up too much of her time. Last week, she started sleeping at her mother's place. She told me that she shouldn't've let me get so attached to her. That this whole thing was a mistake, but how can it be a mistake that I don't have to wash my hands after I touch her? Love is not a mistake, it's not fair that she can run away from this and I just can't! I can't go out and find someone new, because I always think of her. (read next poem for ending)
Troubles
how do I explain
these thoughts intruding in my life
in my mind
through each day
every moment
every step
gotta do this
gotta do that
again and again
troubles
how do I find control
this constant toll
forced upon me
if I'm good or bad
this constant toll
gotta keep going
over and over
again and again
til finally I fall
fall into the trap
no
not a trap
a lifestyle
I cannot escape
it's consuming me
breaking me
pulling my arms in different directions
do I fight these urges?
to build anxiety
or do I follow through
just to land back at the start
gotta do this
gotta do that
again and again
it never stops
it never slows
I'm falling
with an urge to climb
the higher I climb
the less air I breath
the lower I fall
the more anxieties
gotta do this
gotta do that
again and again
troubles
how do I bare this burden
hidden in my mind
a monster, from behind
turn around
face to face
now it's at a faster pace
A river
swimming against the tide
arms fatigue
no longer I try
I'm drifting along
down with the waves
turning and falling again and again
Troubles
how do I explain
these thoughts intruding in my life
in my mind
through each day
every moment
every step
gotta do this
gotta do that
again and again.
123 OCD
so goes the repeated anthem
out of sight
constantly in mind
dead from "checking"
the thousandth time
123 OCD
sung by millions worldwide
over lights, faucets, germs and more
conjouring up worries,
Did I lock the front door?
123 OCD
shouted in times of frustration
off, off, off
make sure the irons cold
counting, touching, cleaning
Did I really turn off the stove?
123 OCD
will surely be the death of me!
He is quite the constant hygienist
a licking perfectionist
shows agility with flair
back leg up in the air
my cat the self cleaning contortionist
Your name rolls through my mind like molasses
Tugging and scraping along the surface of my brain
Those six lucky letters nag and drag me down
The way I eat, the way I walk down a flight of stairs
I feel those six letters watching, analyzing, critiquing
To think! Such utter misery born from such a beautiful memory!
Nothing can stop this broken record now
Not time, not fate, not God himself
can stop this ugly sound.
I'm not sure where I am sometimes Mentally.
I Lose the line between whats fiction and Reality.
I look around the room after moments of being thoughtless,
just to realize i never left and the keys still in my pocket.
I chase the shadows from the walls and watch them disappear in to the cracks
I scream at the door, my heart is racing, they call them "Panic attacks"
I rewrite these same passages in books that over flow ,
Each one is slightly different that i can't just let them go.
I Call my mother bawling and I can't find the strength to stand
I'm Sobbing on the floorboards with a blade within my hands,
I count the seconds that turn into minutes turning them over in my mind,
I know Shes on her way but what if she doesn't get here in time?!
I'm lost, I can't see because this once brightly lit room its littered with spots of black,
I can't remember how to breathe each breaths coming out is gasps.
Every thing is tight and I feel like i'm suffocating,
Like a ropes around my neck and my feet are beneath me hanging.
I try to take deep breaths and i feel the fire in my lungs,
Burning me with every inhale another scream leaps from my tongue,
I Call Justin Crying and I Don't even know what happened,
One minute i was fine the next i heard someone else's fingers tapping.
I found myself confined to the room that keeps me safe,
That same room is the room i now can't escape..
I'm Dialing 911 and my hands are shaking so bad the phone is Blurry.
I'm yelling at myself "Mom, I need You, Please get here, Please Hurry!"
I'm terrified, I'm running so many Scenarios through my head,
I Feel just like a child, Afraid from the monsters beneath my bed.
I can hear the van outside, I hear foot steps in the hall,
Then all at once the Noises stop like they were never there at all!
I open the door to an embrace that brings my back to Reality.
I'm so ing sorry..
Because Loving Me Is A Tragedy.
Offering of sanity in a crystal vial.
Cleansed with the essence of a childhood lost.
Down the drain. Left a stain.
Opposing forces overtake the senses.
Clarity and peace – a figment of twisted imagination.
Down the drain. Nothing to gain.
Overload of obsession.
Counting, counting, counting numbers and names.
Down the drain. Very last grain.
Opening the facial cavity in a cry for help.
Crying gets you nowhere.
Down the pain. Nicotine train.
Over-used lungs.
Cigarette butts.
Down the pain. Down the pain.
Obsessive
Compulsive
Disorder
Usually, when I obsess over things, I see germs sneaking into my skin.
I see myself crushed by an endless succession of cars, and she was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on. I want to wake up every morning thinking about the way she holds
her steering wheel, how she turns shower knobs like she's opening a safe,
how she blows out candles-
blows out candles-
blows out candles-
blows out candles-
blows out candles-
blows out candles-
blows out-
Now, I just think about who else is kissing her.
I can't breathe because he only kisses her once, he doesn't care if it's perfect.
I want her back so bad.
I leave the door unlocked.
I leave the lights on.
*Not my poem in any way, it's just a poem I really love*
I saw it on YouTube performed by Neil Hilborn.