Inescapable Instruments

The curtain opens,
the poet is sad,
so he throws an off smile
tries to joke.

I'm actually pretty empty -
at least there is pretty in there
(ha-ha.)
Every word has gone out, they just
left me behind
(I bet they're throwing a party.
Right behind Betelgeuse.
Damn those insensitive fools.)

...Oh!

Enough of the drama:
insensitive knocked
and she's drunk;
I just might make her stay.
(You know how it goes, you let one in,
they all come:
in-whatever-comes-to-your-mind's
will be dancing around my apartment.)


Indisputably, all this inflated my intellect
incomprehensible instruments
inebriate- hold that; confuse me.
Now, lets settle down, be intestinal,
no! What does that even – incarnadine!
Infidels! Stop that at once, inconvenience-
Stop!
That's it!
Shut up!

No more of you immature in-s,
you imbecile impotents!
Your impish incline to impertinence –
Argh!
Now the im-s have come in
I can't get them out!
Impoverished incumbent!
I don't want to-
crack

there is silence

a voice rises up again, shouting:

Instruments, intolerate indecisiveness! Informatively, (in)domination is imminent! In-
So that was your plan all along, now,
wasn't it?
Sweep me away after making a battle-plan
back behind Betelgeuse,
forging conspiracies?
Too good I keep all my
narrative voices
clean of in-/im-'s at all times.
Inacceptable!
Don't tell me what kind of words I can use,
also, I won't waste more time now, be gone:

The curtain opens,
the poet is happy
he throws an off smile
and tries to impress.
Breathes in, then halt, shouts:

Damn! Now I used one!

And after an unpleasant pause,
The End.