Put me out of my insanity.

As a victim to my vanity,

the convoluting constricts of

my mind are plain to see.

These suffocating sinews

emerge from a noxious venue;

ever-present ever-poison

in my quaint reality.

Let me imitate this poison

with almost-unfaulted poise,

and I will show you how I

counterfeit the images I find.

I turn and turn the dial,

stop on dancing dames, and smile

at a picturesque perfection

which exacerbates my mind—

then I persist to twist my saneness

into a prettiful mundaness

because smiles are aesthetic

where our brains are just sublime.