A somatic shadow cast by ambiance chasers

Jim also has many of the tittles, titrates and has reawakened Titus Flavius Vespasianus since his brief reign made him the cheapest emperor on the necromancer's books.  He would at this moment be besieging Jerusalem but frankly, he just can't be arsed.

What were we talking about again?  Oh yes, your finger sonnet.  S2 L2 is kind of imperfect (yes, that's like almost pregnant) with the DUM bypassing the stronger "fleshed" and landing on "out", which is on the line.  No quick and easy fix springs to mind, however, and since swift resolution eludes me I shall wander past, not make eye contact and pretend to be admiring the architecture.

I am most deliciously amused by "storm-troping wankers" (the phrase rather than the objects themselves, obviously, although they're worth a smug chuckle to one's superior self).  When stuck in a rutting rut, there is indeed a great temptation to go nuclear -- but of course, our words are our progeny and the poet craves no greater satisfaction (it's no good, I can't keep that up without choking). 

So, you're Mum's still pissing you off then?