"High on Life"

when skies shine like topaz

and there's blossom on the trees

and a slight breeze

and you're watching some magpies take flight


when the world is so vibrant

and your heart is so light

and just for a moment

you're feeling all right


people might believe

you need alcohol

or drugs

or religion

or to fall

insanely in love

with somebody


but no other "high" can match

simply

high on life

in those moments

sweet and brief

pure and innocent

no-one's mind games can

touch you

no-one has the power

to break or destroy you


you just want to bottle

the feeling

but you can't

and it's so sad

because it won't last

and you know

it won't last

it can't last

"Superficial Diagnosis"

They miss the point

consistently:

never get to the heart

of what tortures me.

That is not OCD.


The diagnosis

is superficial,

and works for them,

not me.


There are deeper issues,

but they can't see past

my injured hands:

one visible manifestation

of my anguish,

and a reaction to

extreme distress -

in this case, mainly caused by their

so-called "services",

ironically.


Why can't they see

that they don't help me

when they won't see past

their inadequate label?

When they won't see me -

and must attempt to stretch their label's implications,

to make it mean more than it ever did -

that makes me want

to scream,

self-harm,

explode inside.


Look closer. See my pain in all its

shades and hues - complexities -

and forget

for a moment

about your obsession

with my so-called "OCD".