(a combustion that refused to end)

SPARK
(not the first / just the one
that didn’t die)
silence
when squeezed
long enough
produces
light
not grief
not rage
just
a question
too hot
to whisper

COMBUSTION
your name
caught
        E   
      R
    I      
     F
    I
      R
        E
from the inside
not a metaphor
just
too much oxygen
in the blood
a match
with a memory
and
the match
remembers



AFTERBURN
what remains:
a blackened circle
verbs flickering
at the edges
  (burning slower now)
the smell
of thunder
on your fingertips
and nowhere to place
your shadow


FIRELOGUE
[SYSTEM NOTE]
firewall =
breached
source:
unauthorized
persistence
// trace heat signature:
 still active

(an unquiet manifesto)  



SILENCE THAT ISN’T PEACE

(     )

this  
quiet  
is  
not  
a  
space  
between  
words   

it’s  
the muzzle  
of a  
GUN  
that  

                          F  
                       O  
                     R  
                  G  
               O  
             T  

to  

FIRE

the poet  
doesn’t  
bre^ak  
silence   
he  
plants  
grenades  
in  
its  
mouth  

count:  
one  
­        two  

(no  
explosion.  
just  

t   e   e   t   h  
GROWING  
in  
the  
dark)



BREATH AS EVIDENCE

inventory of losses:  
- borders  
- alphabets  
- the right  
to say “I”

but breath  
remains  
the last  
uncensored  
broadcast

poetry =  
the illegal  
oxygen  
we pass  
mouth  
to mouth  
like prisoners  
sharing  
a single  
match
   (flick)



ROOTS / CABLES

we are  
the exposed  
wiring  
of this silence  

not grounded  
not safe  
just conducting  
currents  
of what  
might have been  
a bre^ak



EPILOGUE (BLINKING STATE)

error:  
subject not found  
but still  
breathing

this is not  
a body  
this is  
a system failure  
that refuses  
to shut  
down

i’m not ready  
to be  
forgotten  
here

not  
an ending.  
a blinking  
cursor.


and if  
you don’t  
see me   
that only means  
i’m  
not 
done  
typing
▍

(a diagnostic glitch in verse)

when
systems
(whisper)
yOu’re
a
thReat/

maybe
you’ve
simply
be
gun
to
tell
the

T
R
U
T
H

& they’ll scream:
error.

(because
truth
sounds like
a disobedient
bit
in their
hoLy
loGic)

they’ll
try
to
fix
you

not seeing
you’re
just
a
mir
     ror
       cracked,
         but
  ­         clear__
enough
to reflect
what
they
never
coded
for.

you
are
not
a
v i r u s.

you
are
the
  P
    A
      T
        C
          H

(re
 boo­t.
  re
   write.
    re
      sist.)