A poem on OCD


Looking at window display

A black dress I can’t afford

Walking down Regent Street

Bodies bump into me

People pass like cattle


Shops blur in the melee

Herded towards the curb

My legs feel…

Fall, Fall, gonna fall, gonna fall


Plastered against shop window

Calming down. Walking

Arms pulled in

Look straight ahead

Eyes front. Avoid the crowds

Restaurant in sight

Walking in

See Mark across the room

Sit down and say hello

Catching up

Adjusting the cutlery

Looking at the…

Dirt, dirt, dirty fork, unclean, dirty fork. Unsafe


Mark removes the fork


All in order

Order food

Must wash hands

In the bathroom

Stare at taps

Rotate taps five times.

Five quirts of soap

Wash palms

Wash backs

Wash fingers

Wash nails


Stare at hands

All done now



Didn’t work

Not clean

Feel sick. Wanna run. Wanna hide.

What to do?

Stare into the mirror

Catch my breath

Put on a smile

Return upstairs

Say nothing