Blue rings of smoke and
Stop.
Ending further
Stop.
Mechanical drones but
Stop.
Thought process abruptly
Stop.
Nothing has
Stop.
For my
Stop.
. . .
You may now begin.
The millions of
personal malfuctions
scrape and sing with a  
hideous tune, but none
could be better to
soothe filthy thoughts.
They begin as tiny
blue rings of smoke and
are soon ****** in through
unsightly painted vents.
A waft of sickly sweet
confusion crosses the
outer borderline,
ending further along
private hallways.
An unnoticable
tinker of raspy tools
buzz with
mechanical drones, but
it becomes easier
with children's time
and deaf ears.
It satisfies every
thought process, abruptly
ending in tasteful rainbows
and inspirational copper print.  
Nothing has
to make sense here,
and only I would know better.
This was strictly
for my
own entertainment.
*End.