An Obsessive Compulsive's Thoughts On Washing His Hands Poem by Vincent S. Coster

The feeling of the water
As it runs over my bare skin
The soap forming bubbles that pop
In lathered delight

It is pure ecstasy for me

The feeling of the water on my skin
Soothing me of the torment
From the man who sneezed
And shook my hands

Not a worry for him
If I should catch the damn thing
What ever it was that made him sneeze

Filthy and uncaring fool who sneezed
Did you see him sneeze?
And then shake my hand with
All them germs and things?
Crawling around like Greeks in Troy
But soap and water are my allies
Nuclear bombs to filthy bugs

Boom!

Washed
Removed
Erased
Zapped
Wicked little crawling things meet your demise

The great war of my lifetime
Ended with the soothing feel
Of soap and water
Running over my bare skin