Momentum: A Poem About My Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder

Soft, warm drops slid down and crackled on my sandy skin
Flooding the canyons of my eyes before dripping out like a prisoner escaping and running for freedom
And I wish desperately to do the same
But my master holds me prisoner in my own home
The safe place where beauty runs wild, and countless songs drift in the winds of my thoughts
Swirling and dancing like the colorful leaves during autumn
And I wonder how I, too, may drift freely on the wind of those songs
Carried away by their captivating beauty and rhythm
I am not drifting upon that wind, but a tornado, whipping and pushing me around its deadly vortex
Violently shaking me and forcing me every which way
Trapped in its endless cycle of swirling thoughts until I am left spinning
Even after the tornado has finished
The calm of the storm just calm enough for me to hear my thoughts whispering through the wind
The lies coaxing me out of my hiding place and into the open field
“It’s safe here”
Until the tornado emerges from the ominous clouds again, sweeping me up in its vortex until I’m spinning
Sick with vertigo from the momentum of my own mind.

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Photo by Tânia Soares on Unsplash