O.C.D.

I hate my garage door, I could not hate it more.

I round the block again, just so my eyes may adore.

It’s closed, as I see plainly, and I stare, focused in.

The door is down, not open. That’s all. The end.

But as if not sufficient evidence, I round the block again

I inspect the door carefully, knowing it down, but expecting it open.

The anxt I feel when I attempt to leave, I simply can’t express.

It’s like the weight of that whole damned door pressing down, against my chest.

The door is down, I know it so, but this fact I cannot accept.

Is it that I don’t believe myself? I know not, but the door again, I must check.

So I sit there staring at this monster that I alone have created.

Not understanding why I can’t depart with a simple waive and a “see you later”.

It’s closed. It’s down. I’m finally able to convince myself.

I prepare to leave to a bright new day; to the sun and the birds that chirp away.

This moment is mine and I am finally free.

All is good and fine, and all will continue to be.

As I drive away, I soon hear his too well known cry.

I fight it, but I can’t not listen, and my weak will soon dies

I give in to the metallic beast that I myself, have created.

I circle the block once more, my newfound freedom, deflated.