The fragmented elements of your prose lent themselves to a rapid, harsh, cacophonic reading. The pace of the poem built from the first lines to the climax, where the rhythm remained the same, but the number of words increased. That was completely genius--to be able to alter the pace of a poem through diction without actually adding to the diction? Awe inspiring. And then, when it regained its fragmented style for the end, i found myself pausing, even in my head, as I read it, just to feel what the speaker was feeling. All the wrath and fury and recklessness all tangled up inside one individual, and screwing with that individual's ability to relate to others, really just translated beautifully into verse under your direction.