Sometimes, when I do my compulsions,

I’m 14 again. I’m in Ohio

and I’m telling myself, 

“I want to go home.”

I should have known something was wrong

when I returned to Kentucky

but kept repeating that phrase.

I was in my house,

but I wanted to go home. 

 

I forgot about that compulsion 

until I was 21 and returned home 

from college, and upon my arrival 

repeated the phrase that laid dormant

in the recesses of my mind. 

I identified it quickly, now more knowledgeable 

on my own brain, yet,

here I am today, repeating it, 

knowing full well

I’m making things worse.

 

But I’m in my house

And I want to go home.