Obssessive-Compulsive Disorder (poem)


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Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

By John C. Paschalis

Important images

in the subconscioussness

never let you go.

Five second durations

spent in unacknowledged fantasy

confuse where I did

(or did not)

go.

The better part of the mind

in the sixth second clears

the former five's veneer.

And ruling out your worst fear,

will guide, protect you through

all remaining years.

I glance outside, view hills of snow,

when in their place, in summer months now denied

my mother's lawn I meticulously mowed.

A wave to the neighbor meant anything.

My hands heralded more than

need for acceptance-

they shyly asked for her ring.

And though I could only smile and sign

and tell her safe observations

that season,

I wanted to show more of me.

To cease lingering pain

in the wake of human disconnection,

I was tempted to

defer to the availability of faith

instead of the relentless efforts

of reason,

when I found myself burning

in Hell's season.

Frail is the path to happiness,

but every season finds me here

safely alive.

I never unsafely stumbled,

but only trembled

before the monster

I falsely saw and feared.

Will I see the monster again?

Will I see him in durations

of less than five seconds:

Five. . .four. . .three. . .two. . .one

until I see him no more?

I don't know.

But I do feel

a growing strength within me

that will make me

safe enough to feel happy

through my remaining years.

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