The weakness of defeat is omnipotent. Sailing on doubt which leaves a nasty taste in your mouth. More southern than south, weakness makes one feel down and out. The body knows and holds no contract to defeat. It lightly burns and releases a cold threat, emits the awful feelings of regret.
The tactical mind shines the light on the path to strength. Hundreds of options, only a few doesn’t inspire me to vent. Having spent countless hours, days and weeks drenched in the weak I seek the pride of self belief and intoxication of victory. Ciroc rocks the belly back and forth as it ensures a warped view of reality.
Jubilant as truant from unwanted duty. Maybe weakness is a way to power, like spending more than several hours in a library to increase your knowledgable apt. In fact learning annoyance and cooking regret, as it eats you alive at the same pace as the time you waste.