A different kind of obsessive complulsive

When you write to scrub the thoughts from you brain,
Like counting down from 100 to fall asleep,
You are never quite done until the exact word fits together
Jig saw puzzles,
Math equations,
This is how I though of life,
Complications now and then,
You deal with it,
You sleep through the it,
Except words and poetry dance around in my thoughts like jumping jacks,
2, 4, 6, 8
I am forever looking for the solution to unlock the mystery to my mind,
The joke is on me,
I can not sleep without the aid of sleep aids,
Waiting for sleep to wash over me,
For my body to submit to the other side
Yet I can’t until these words,
Literary imaginary dance neatly two by two
Down on paper,
My fingers tapping on this keyboard,
As soon as the last words leave my fingers,
I am saved,
I am saved,
Redemption even though I have never graced the halls of church,
I get it,
This is my salvation,
This is my word therapy,
This is my sleep.

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