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OCD Speaks - Thousands Listen

But maybe
You didn't wash
The loose silver ring
The narrow edge of the ring
The inside of the ring
The worm-pink ring
Of finger under the ring
The stretch of finger above
And below
Where the dear thing might have slid
When you fingered the germs
And slid back.
Under the white fingernails!
Around the wrists!
Hell, you've gone this far
Down the arms!
Across the face
That has the linen handkerchief
Crushed against it
(More often than not,
It seems like!)
And the linen handkerchief
Gets crumbled in
The hand you don't wash enough,
And stuffed in the pocket of the pants
You don't wash enough, either,
Do the math.
It's addition,
Of steps.
Done, huh?
What about the nostrils?
Most important part.
How 'bout those little grooves
Little curved ravines
Between the soft cheek
And the nostrils.
What about them?
It's neglect, is what it is.
And, hey
Did you do the nostrils?
Yeah, smell the soap.
Thank God for that rugose smell!
We know!
Don't touch your lips with the soap!
Poisin! Poisin! Bubbling, multiplying poisin!
Almost worse than giving her germs
Kissing her with soap!
Don't touch the
Linen handkerchief
You blind fool!
Well, okay
It was a fleeting
Yes, fleeting, fleeting.
Barely worth noting, eh?
Yes, I know you're out the door
But you'll be just as unhappy as I
When you need to blow your nose
Go back and get
A paper towel
And let the white and silver shining sink
Pull you into pondering
"But maybe
You didn't wash
The loose silver ring
"There comes a point!" you say?
Well, yes, I suppose there does
As if that changed anything.
It's you who likes to daydream,
Not me.
One more time for The Gipper
No, don't ponder who The Gipper was,
Just wash.
You touched the
"dead" handkerchief again.
Yes, I know you had to clear your pocket.
Was the left hand this time, at least.
But so what if your left hand's
"dead" already.
So what if they're both ragged and flaky and stinging
As that soap smell.
At least righty's clean
For now.
I mean
Unless of course
You didn't wash under
The white

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