My insanity is intense, and insecurities - incessant.
Inebriated, I inhale the inhibitions of an introvert.
And imbibe the inept indulgences
Of the Internet industry.

In truth, my innards inspect
The inexplicable intolerances influence inputs
Into the inklings of the innocent,
And the inbred ingredients it inserts into their intentions.

In instances of introspection, my insurance is
The innovation of our incoming intelligence.
In their infinite intensity, the impossibility isn't in.
My innate intuition insists:

 Invictus.

(Playing with alliteration)