My own worst enemy

So awkward I astonish the astronomers
Send me to the loony bin
I'm a lunatic
And I'll come out worse than when I went in
Irrelevant topics make me sick
Lonliness is my tonic
And it's a bit ironic how the pen has a grip on my fingertips
Cause I'm laconic
But I speak silence fluently
My voice is just ultrasonic
Bionic tongue talking in oxymorons
I've got this weirdness down to a perfect science
I'm the backrest you lean against with the cracked plastic jabbing you in the back to counter the pain in your chest I'm the honest con artist
Feeding on my own arteries
Drawing blanks and inviting mosquitos to withdraw funds from my blood bank
And in the other words of the philosopher, "my bottle of guts has runith over"
They would've never fit in a cup
But my pictures say more than a thousand words so my product gives you the most bang for your buck