The Broken Lines

[The_system_screams]

they are where
    language limps
        and still chooses to walk.

they are
     the trace of breath
catching
     on the jagged edge
                                       of trying.

they come
  from the fracture
    between thought and form—
      between the word you meant
        and the one that arrived
          bruised,
               almost right.

they are
    topography
      of emotion unmastered—
the syntax of rupture,
  the grammar of ache,
          the rhythm of resistance.

they represent
  what doesn’t fit
    but insists
      on being
        rendered anyway.

so i break
  the line
    like a promise,
      like a breath too heavy to carry in one mouthful—
not because it’s over,
        but because
            it continues.
elsewhere.
always.