Tape my hands together. And grease-pencil trompe l’oeil into my forehead. 
Then again — I’m hooked on figurative exposition. Maybe I’m inspired by your stockpile of vowel-movers, striking — paramount for this, the rockiest of calculations, parody of parody — to show off in front self-effacing, tall, slim complexities and transgressive contradictions of metabolic ambition.  
This tune dialogs with others.