Quiet in the Library

My life with OCD is like the undisturbed waters of Tahoe, when not a zealous reveler, nor even the wind dare brave the calm of her waters. Everything is as it should be, my mind and body at peace, one and all. But when the perfect prism of surface tension breaks, the waters wash this way and that, I desperately seek and cannot find the source of the disturbance, it’s origin obscured by wrinkles and words. All I know in that moment is chaos what used to be my crippled mind reels for control, ironing edges, repressing ripples. Sweet words sour myself thoughts devour I brave another hour- glass of frantic drinking because I’ve been thinking about how it is to live without perfection in every layout and love without doubt. So if you wish to wade into the waters of my whole soul, go not as a person, spilling my silence, drinking my time. Go then as a pebble dropped by a rok, give the water no warning- plummet from great unseen heights with the terrifying speed of life itself. And when the happy coincidence of gravity finally hauls you into me, Pierce deep. and pierce true. Descend into my blue, And come to rest in my bed. Maybe then you can hear the silent din inside my head.