So the saying goes
‘Mind over matter’
But if that is the case then shouldn’t mine be matter over mind because the mind is the last place I want to be
Maybe now you get just how terrifying it can be, this whole OCD
I know I have the beating of it even if it still persists
There are times when I feel so God damn far from sublime it’s like I’m getting sucked in once more
But there is noway in hell I’m packing my things inside a bag and walking back through that St. Pat’s door
I’d rather not, spent way too long in that particular part of Dublin, that spot
I thought about just how far I’ve come today while sitting it out on the couch
Thought about just how dangerous this thing can be, how the first thing you want to do is get away from it
To flee
But another far less controllable part of me does the opposite to that
So there I was sat, thinking things through ’til I got up and went for a run
Stepping into my tracksuit, away from my mental gun
I said I wouldn’t write about OCD to my Dad but that ain’t so easy when it ruled your life for such a long time
Made you sweat buckets, whine while trying to converse with you family and friends, trying to do something as simple as dine
I need to take it slow, not sprint at everything and anything but accept myself as an ordinary joe
But what if I’m not, I really don’t know
I am also realising that I do use some of the same lines
‘ordinary joe’, ‘talent runs the core’, ‘everything and anything’ and ‘sublime’
All in all words I use when feeling the need to rhyme
So I’ve come to the conclusion that I still need to let go, forget about any kind of flow for a time
Write like I just don’t care
For those of you who do like my rhyme, don’t despair, it’ll return
It cannot but
Also I don’t write for myself, if I did this poem would read one line long
Its’ for real readers out there, the ones who are relaxed enough to grab a book, a mug of coffee, a cigarette without feeling as though their time is being taxed