OCD

Sometimes, it feels like 

My chair has a set of eyes.

That it creepily stares at me

To suck all my dreams.

It feels like the wall clock,

Has a pair of ears.

Makes me uncomfortable,

Thinking if it knows my secrets.

I wonder if the gas-cylinder 

Has a nose that sniffs off

My stink and snorts up 

Whatever ambition I'm left with. 

The metal-lock, perfume-bottle. 

The helmet, the iron-box.

The more I look at them and

Think, the more creepy they become.

I freaked out one day and

Accidentally came in front of

The mirror..

My eyes were a pair of chairs.

Two clocks in place of ears.

I sneezed out of shock and

The gas off my nose caught fire.