The Narrative Became Rearranged Poem by Eillio Imbasciati

Feeling the onset of artificial tension,
Swallow that pill, as a headache arrives at about the same time,
Hearing talk about the price that is paid for moderate genius,
Hearing too much right now
The ringing begins while the rigging was in place,
The narrative became rearranged, then mangled,
Facial expression gone wayward,
Eyes sunken, gone six feet under in appearance
Now he no longer wants to see,
All he can do is cry for help,
Until the next events occur which leave him speechless as well
Something stinks,
But his ability to smell left him years ago
He can taste,
But he's too bitter to be interested,
As it makes no sense to him