Wired Wrong

I'm real live wired, I dive in ill mired

Want my job? Well, hell slob you're fired

You can't match me, catch to see, unlatch my batch of catastrophe

I'm a mastiff, see?

You set the master free

The blaster fee is alabaster skin

Akin to being killed by twenty men

With a small syringe over and over again

A rover for ten, to rent a gent, rollover, spin then

Light the flint, spark the ignition, my free lark rendition

Suspicion, I listen, you glisten, through wishin' for fixin'

While you're fishin' for the list then, the names of vision

Backwards I lack words, I tack to pack and wrack herds

Or the head, whore be dead, resting in my shed

I'm questing instead, not nesting my bed

Wrestling you red with a sound I bled

I read, I feed, your need for true lead

I attack with speed, then lack to pack any need

Many back up to breed, then crack a track like a steed

Dour cylinder, sour vinegar, the mass distributor of titular literature

The literary fairy with a knack for being scary

Seeing life's lair he runs to dare, puns scare all there

A play on word, it's twisted heard absurd, and weighed to a third