Your tongue gets pulled two ways at once: say all of it, and say exactly this. Mercury squares Jupiter, and the angle bites. The breadth that wants to span keeps grinding against the word that wants to land. So your sentences stretch, you double back to fix, you leave one open to begin another. People lose the thread, and your writing is hard to close. That is the price of the form. What it built, after years of practice, is a mind that can swing between the frame and the scalpel. Pure precision shrinks you. Pure width crushes you. Your voice came out of that exact crosswise grind.