I feel I always get distracted by the sound of your poems, but really, it is hard to ignore, how tightly crafted, how polished it is.
pomp
is poor armour.
This flatly bitter statement. yet so pristinely balance. Know better! - instead --
better to run through your enemy:
firmer fitter further,
the sharp exhale of breath in those fleeting 'f's, pushing through, and then inhale --
igniting your
flammable-bloods
&. to the decimation
of his lines.
the full stop there mid-stanza -- and the choice of word 'decimation' -- decimal, maths, calculation -- brings in a certain sense of malignant clinicality, of joy of revenge. Hence --