Lost in the thoughts

I experience a kind of OCD that is obsession based. This means that, instead of washing hands or flicking lights, I just try and think harder. This may sound minor or common, and it is! At least, it can be. Like depression or anxiety, obsessive thoughts happen to everyone. And for some, these obsessive thoughts become so uncomfortable and frequent that a person needs help. Asking for help is a skill that I was never taught. Acceptance and self-love are skills that I was never taught.

I feel that a shift in values taught at a very young age -- to prioritize curiosity, creativity, and emotional awareness, as well as technical skills and discipline -- might be helpful.

During times when I have felt trapped in obsessive cycles, creative expression has been of the few techniques that has actually pulled me out.

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Order doesn't matter

P eople

E verywhere

M ake

D ecisions

A s

S elves

Fancy lookin'

I wish my space was saved for someone more deserving

I'm trying to be one with the air for the weight of earth seems crushing

Crying warms my bones

Think

I'm fat, ugly and evil

I don't feel worthy of love or deserving of care

I'm so sweet my teeth hurt

I don't exist alone

I'm not perfect so I must go....

I hate me insecurity

I'm scared of breathing

I know this will end me. I'll feed on your envy

Self love

Ever wonder who you'd be if you were allowed to be anybody?

Ever bother over the impossibility of dream analysis and pray to one day perform without the script?

But you're tired and there's work to do and there's so much work to do, so love can wait for a more convenient date

Sleep pea

Why is hunger so seductive to some?

waif like figures tired and tangled

hungry for apples no bite and we’d have Eden forever

sounds rather boring, no?

sounds like the kind of light so bright that darkness forms a molten center

never stare straight at the sun or you’ll go dark forever

Me? I’m burning yellow with unexpressed rage

impaling self through staling energy

cycling in search of space for exploration

silenced by the blue of insecurity

now my skin is green

and I feel a need to sleep from such a sense of sour

How're you all living?

My fears come in threes

Keep trying to prove your taste is better, end up eating yourself.

Over eat your self and bloat like a yellow chicken

or egg

no matter which came first

we need both

how did I get here?

and where might that be

selfish for survival?

why is it cool to be closed?

i guess love is too warm

i took a photo of a flower

deep purple and dying

can this be enough?

Graceland

Do I have it or not?

and who gets to decide

And how do I decide it gets

to be me?

How much patience

how much practice

until my mind feels clear

and free?

I suppose when I'm no

longer weary of patience

and spiteful of practice

when I'm grateful for the

mind and the feeling

of the mind and the feeling

of feeling the mind

then

I shall have it

The painter

Long wrenching

smoke seeps its sounds

down the cracks between skin particles. Nothing feels

safe when everything’s on fire. Inhale at the tip and

watch the orange orgasm crawl up the stem, searching

for rays. These are the days

of wandering fools searching for a light “Tu a un feu?”

Never carried a lighter in Paris, coasted on broken chatter

and fed on drops from the bottom of the bottle.

Walked mean miles a day, lit fingered and scarved,

scraped out and starved “Tu a un feu?” too high on self-

image for a smoke just low enough for a finger stained slip

for a figured stain of an industry

based on bodily betrayal

based in begging for beauty

so willing to sacrifice the life of a first born child

I am my first born child

soaked in the city of love like a bean from the bag

asking for some light to wash me clean

“Tu a un fue?” you know what I mean?

Self portrait

Bird brained and egg eyed

my teeth keep falling out in my dreams

so I keep my seems tucked under

like I'm told

like I'm afraid

when I'm cold the sun will never shine again for me

Harm OCD

I want to know that I can control myself

learn from pain to know how

to never feel anything bad again. I fear

I don't have the strength to handle it. The work

sounds exhausting -- I don't want it. I feel

I'd never need to take care of myself if

I have a protector

I never have to make a decision

and risk the pain of choosing wrong. I never

have to admit to having something to lose.

Dande lion

Do I try and trace the petals

back to the hold of their stem?

The source of the wish?

Some banana curled

and chubby cheeked

blue eyed body

eyes closed to taste the want

to see the face of grace

gloved fingers and glass

slippers

celestially shimmering

in love with a thought

blow

they say

and you hear only him

in their voice

blow and the wish can be yours

Two in the corner

No off switch to a bug bite

in the brain

and itching is so bloody

and blood is so silly

sometimes I wish I were blind so I could see better

until I fear I'll actually go blind by a wish

and have to eat my ignorance

Ballet body

I watched a lot of TV as a kid

I loved the little bodies of female figures --

their little legs and filled lives.

Well rounded, I tried to break my hips

until I broke my hips

I tried to slip into that realm that's always moving

and never moving

that safe place with no real talk, only lovers

and likenesses. There's no war in the world

and politics are for prettiness And bones

are for dogs to chew and bodies are for pretend

and dress up, so pick the version you'd like to wear

and wear her well

-- I said to myself

Thinking in color

Use it to lose it

is how I'd like to see it

you see when you have it

and don't want it

will whisper and louder and itch and harder

for it wants to be alive

as you are, technically

physically you beat and breathe and all

so if you decide it's not a bad thing

it's not a good thing

it's just a circling thing

then do something

if you can

when you can

this is for the ones who can

for if you can

than you must

well you don't have to

it just might hurt you if you don't

and I don't really know what I'm saying

for I only know it for me, in me

and in me it hurts a lot

most of the time

especially while reading the news

or staring at the color of my hands

then remembering the news

and the history and the sky

has been falling since creation

since cells split to the point of thought

and that first thought might have been: shit something's missing

Mulberries

Hey, what would happen if school taught kids

how to be creative? how to enjoy learning?

how to love our many parts? What if

we talked about why

we can't seem to talk

through different differences?