The left side of my face twitches
whenever creativity strikes,
I feel a certain sickness.
My eyes get blurry.
My fingers start to numb.
The sinews in my palms sweat uncontrollably,
Unconsolably, my body won’t cooperate.
I can’t think straight,
sideways, angles always trip inside my brain
as if the rules of logic dance
back and forth,
in my soul, sided, seed-brained
mentality of all that remains
of intelligibility.