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Description
Nausea ain't fun.
But when nausea is the consequence
For a life in control, you learn to live
With it.
At least, that's what I would love to claim
If it weren't for my hands
Which won't stop tightening
Or my legs
Which won't stop shaking
Or my eyes
Which still widen on command

But not my command.

No, you see, it's the command of the anaphora
Who lodged himself in my nerves long ago.

This anaphora, well, he's not the worst guy in the world.
He's a little quirky though
For example, he demands to go by a formal name:
Tourettes.
And he's one restless fella, let me tell ya
He likes to jump around, making your eyes twitch one year
Traveling to your neck the next.

And I try to ignore him,
Because that's all you can really do.
But it's hard to ignore
When you look down and realize
That the reason you've had callouses on your hands
Since you were nine
Is because you've been clenching your fists without even knowing
Or when you say a perfectly competent sentence
And you have to repeat it under your breath
Because if you don't
Then he takes over
Erasing all thoughts scratching sandpaper on your veins
Until you obey him
You do bow to his will

Because it is his will
Not yours
For Tourettes turns your entire body
Into a walking, talking, unintentional anaphora

Repetition or mind-numbing nausea
Not your choice.

Description
Nausea ain't fun.
But when nausea is the consequence
For a life in control, you learn to live
With it.
At least, that's what I would love to claim
If it weren't for my hands
Which won't stop tightening
Or my legs
Which won't stop shaking
Or my eyes
Which still widen on command

But not my command.

No, you see, it's the command of the anaphora
Who lodged himself in my nerves long ago.

This anaphora, well, he's not the worst guy in the world.
He's a little quirky though
For example, he demands to go by a formal name:
Tourettes.
And he's one restless fella, let me tell ya
He likes to jump around, making your eyes twitch one year
Traveling to your neck the next.

And I try to ignore him,
Because that's all you can really do.
But it's hard to ignore
When you look down and realize
That the reason you've had callouses on your hands
Since you were nine
Is because you've been clenching your fists without even knowing
Or when you say a perfectly competent sentence
And you have to repeat it under your breath
Because if you don't
Then he takes over
Erasing all thoughts scratching sandpaper on your veins
Until you obey him
You do bow to his will

Because it is his will
Not yours
For Tourettes turns your entire body
Into a walking, talking, unintentional anaphora

Repetition or mind-numbing nausea
Not your choice.