You take your sweet time and you decide to go for it- all guns ablaze. With everything. All of it. Then you find yourself kicking a ball about in the tech over the road and about to go for a long ass run and you think.. how the fuck did I get to here? How… did I actually get through all of that?! Seriously. What the?! Are you a fucking robot to have hauled your ass through all of that painstaking perfection-seeking?! What the hell did you do all those years, every other day, besides bargaining with your ocd to stop, stop, stop. To hell with it. Even a robot would have run amok with its wiring. This is real. This is a constant fight. A fight for balance amidst a quirky imbalance that is literally… yeah, part insane, only in so far as it breaks your entire connection in the preciously necessary parts of your brain wiring with the ability to know what is dangerous. What isn’t danger. That’s ocd. That’s why it has to be fixed, and not just for me. For anyone and everyone. I’ll let you in on a little secret, though. It does in fact make you feel super-human because, well, no human of normal make-up could have gotten to here. So, for that part, I’ll happily be a freak. Course writing is easy for me. But I did nothing to get that particular cross-fire of disconnection working for that particular endeavour. Actually that is total balls. Yeah I did, I wrote throughout the whole thing, all those years.. knowing somewhere deeeeeeeeeeeep down that it was in me, dying to get to the fore. Read it AWAY FROM THE PAGE AND SPOKEN ALOUD. You fall down a hole and the shit you manage to shovel up along the reach back up is rather fucking golden, albeit covered in shit and muck. Needless to say, that shit and muck is the ocd. I’ve got the gold, now I just NEED to clean the bloody shit away but it’s so mercilessly embedded
Copyright © 2021 poetart. All rights reserved.