I am at war with my Left brain, my left brain says measure this and what about that, my Left Brain is a loud Lieutenant rigid in its ways.
My left brain’s name is Autisticus Asperganoid. If I were any good (as a whole) with measuring sticks and calculations, my left brain would be a dear colleague, but I am pitiful in the sciences despite an affinity for the field (je suis un spectator).
I lick my codified lips wistfully.
My right brain is without a name, without a title, without an aim. My right brain says:
“apple falls off tree and floats into brain killing all integers and setting the stage for nuclear contractions with grave political reclassification.”
And I can never catch my Right brain; that beautiful silken butterfly, that ebony cheetah, that crooning voice hymning orgasmic reveries.