As I hold the razor blade
I turn to my right
Slash! Slash!
On my knuckles
The most painful place
To inflict an injury
Peeling them like a potato
I cry.
Where is my medication?
I see it not
Do I have obsessive compulsive disorder?
Or am I just a compulsive liar?
Only I know
“I just want to die!”
I scream, scrubbing at the table
My purposefully plaited for affect messy hair
Flows in the wind
Oh, Alexa Chung
I wish I was you… you… you

Mediocre short story

There was once a girl named ledailata. She has loads of troubles such as hearing voices, compulsions, intrusive thoughts about simon armitage and her maths teacher, anxiety, depression, self harm, paranoia, bipolar and bowel incontinence. After a hard day of tweeting about her problems, ledailata decided she would leave the house to go for a walk.
As she lifted her arm to brush her hair, she involuntarily vomited at the stench of her pits which had been left to brew for 200 days. Spooning the remaining armpit cheese out of her pits with her breakfast spoon, she looked in the mirror.
What happened next hit her like a train.
Out of nowhere……. An intrusive thought.
Ledailata fell to her knees. “NO YOU BITCH!” She screamed at her reflection before violently hurling herself into the wardrobe.
Before she knew it, ledailata was pulling out her leg hair in clumps. 7 years of growing, all gone to waste. She shoved handful upon handful into her gullet, chewing ferociously.
“YOUR LEGS ARE TOO HAIRY” screamed the wardrobe.
Ledailata was in ruins. Her actions where completely out of control, like a monster was inside her.
After ten harrowing minutes, the ordeal seized as quickly as it begun. She was left laying in a pool of her own diarrhoea and menstrual flow. Two flaps which were once her labia minora layed in an orderly fashion on her pillow.

To be continued…

before I rest each night,
i have to check each lock and key.
or else I may wake with a fright,
and find you standing next to me.

8 times I check each window,
8 times I check each door.
before I lie my head among my pillow,
i have to be so sure.

odd numbers make me angry,
to a point I can’t express.
one day I will make you see,
as I undo my dress.

SIMON ARMITAGE BROKE MY HEART,
how will I go on?
i imagine the smell of his farts,
as I caress my lacey thong.

I wanted to know all of the rituals,
of which he may perform.
‘no’ is all he replied to my calls,
and now I am left to mourn.

oh no here comes an intrusive thought ,
of which Simon is the victim.
I’m cooking him with a dash of salt,
and licking out his rectum.

it tastes so nice BUT I WONT SHARE,
you’ll have to get your own.
I’m sorry if it does not seem fair,
blame OCD, don’t moan.

I wish I looked liked Alexa Chung,
maybe then Simon will love me.
brb I’m going to take a big dung,
and shove things up my fanny.

fanny

As I sat in my maths lessons
The urge to strain my bowels intensified.
Instead of soiling myself
I drew patterns on some paper

intrusive thoughts, intrusive thoughts

Then as suddenly as my compulsions
Miss Byrne snatched the paper
That was the final straw
I’m telling my mum

intrusive thoughts, intrusive thoughts

She wrote in swirly handwriting
7 heartfelt pages of agony
Once like the time
Our hands touched the same book

intrusive thoughts, intrusive thoughts

The school councillor came to me at lunch
And asked some disturbed questions
Instead of revealing my vaginal warts
I had to clean the table

intrusive thoughts, intrusive thoughts

life

I spend most of my days happy,
smiling and laughing.

but then it comes,

like a meteor crashing towards earth,

like the library book falling off the shelf and hitting me and my lover,
on the 22nd of November..

an intrusive thought.
uncontrollable

die
die
die
die
DIE

..

..

..

..

wait I need to clean the table

..

..

..

sorry

germs.

As the paintbrush traced the outlines of your mammaries,

i lay intoxicated from the taste of your back sweat 

it was like an ocean, full of toxic bacteria 

in which I sailed, naked, until my diarrhoea 

of which I took a dainty sip

came to an end