Not bad, a few too many commas and the elipses are not really needed.

First verse is pretty good.

Too many big words here. Rare usage words are quite interesting if you rhyme them but it is difficult and inerrant (is that a word)/ transparent does not really work.

Miss out has from the first line, it is just confusing.

You are right. What I meant to say was that asking mona lisa for head under the pseudonym Dirk Diggler was ungentlemanly.

Don't do it again.

Love affair and inebriation. This has been done before. In fact there is a track on the Katie Melua album Call off the search (there will be no more). Lilac wine or something.

Anyway what have we learnt. Yes, that the idea is stolen from Mike Batt the creative mind behing both Melua and the wombles-- Underground overground wombling free/ the wombles of wimbledon/ common are we.

It is very tightly packed with language and all that, but where is it going. Anywhere?

'There are truths bled out through ink-stained hands;' I think you are probably thinking about philosophers, poetes just write pretty words.

Interesting enough. The cliches are best when they fit together though.

Best bits - She's driving me over the edge/ stuck in the trunk'

and 'dawns on me/ sun is rising'

what do you mean by 'real'.

Cute, the inversion in the second verse is a little baffling (lightly breaking the rain rather than the rain lightly breaking).

A dead bird bounce?

Pretty good all the way through, never sure about parentheses myself.

Alright, not mad keen on the first verses, I can't work myself out sentiment. Tire should be tyre I think.

Like the final verse.

Might be better with a story built round

'Then He thought about the details
as a trapped person might,
just to see it in another light'

Is my favourite part.

I agree with nowhereman. This poeme shouts anorexia nervosa.

I get a sense of anorexogenic environment (the expectations) and an anorexic mindset (the repetition of tighten the belt and the disordered nature of the poem as it draws in all its threads).

Succinctly put. 'pon for a samurai though? Is he an Englishe gentleman samurai.

Second and third verses are good. The enjambment of the first seems a bit forced.

the linebreaks seem to make no sense.

where’s the imagery? The metaphors? There’s no similes,
No use of poetic devices, no alliteration. The writer doesn’t even appear depressed or suicidal,
So what the hell kind of poem is this anyway?

very good, your best vilanelle yet