Got this off the net about this guy with OCD expressing spoken poetry.
Theres much slamming about whether it is poetry or not. I think, who cares if it rhythms or follows a b b a a b b a or not. As long as it touches your heart it is literature.
For many, it is the last few lines, for me its:
When I turn the lights on and off and on and off (repeat multiple times) she close her eyes and imagine that the days and nights were just passing in-front of her.
How can it be a mistake, when I don’t have to wash my hands after I touch her?
She could run away from this and I just can’t. I can’t go out and find someone new bcos I always think of her.
She was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on.
I want to wake up every morning thinking about the way she holds her steering wheel. How she turns shower on like she’s opening the safe, how she blows out candles, how she blows out candles, blows out candles, blows out candles…
In as much as I dont like to study literature or understood the need to study it, I still cant run away from the romanticist in me…
Thanks for coming by