Compulsiveness, I'm called, ever so relentless in nature,

Inescapable, ever so nagging.

Walking down the street, forcing rhythm and counts,

Never being satisfied, ever so present.


Since childhood accompanying you innocently,

And through innocence do I harm you;

Intangible to thee and unknown to most,

The monster of habit awry.


Like the ticking clock – always a distant force,

Forcing rampant repetition and excess.

You will scrub, and you will brush,

And forever will you do it again.


Obsessiveness I'm called, cursory and unnecessary,

But you will not fight back.

With each step is a number, and each number a pattern,

Patterns revealed everywhere.


When the patterns are off will I scoff,

"Fix it, fix it, just a bit",

But a bit becomes a bunch,

Unwanted attention do I bring.


Forever entrenched in a cycle I laugh, that's what the mind desires,

Haunting eternally, until one of us expires.

I keep you upon the border, and cackle whence called 'disorder'.


-W.B. October



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