White Noise Inside My Head

White Noise Inside My Head

It buzzes low,

like a broken prayer,

a dead radio between

stations of despair.

Static hums behind my eyes,

a whispering void that never dies.

Not silence, not quite sound,

just fractured thoughts

that spin around.

Voices, not mine,

static-laced lies,

scraping the silence

behind my eyes.

The clock ticks on,

time stands still,

each breath a burden,

each thought ill.

I reach for quiet,

but it recoils,

slipping through cracks

in mental soil.

I scream in stillness,

nobody hears.

White noise drowns

the drip of years.

Not madness, its second skin,

a quiet war I never win.

No peace here,

just a threadbare hum,

like something dark

has come undone.

It’s not a sound,

but a weight that slithers,

a dull blade turning

in thoughtless shivers.

My name is spoken

in an inner growl,

a stranger’s tone

familiar, foul.

I smile, I nod,

I play the part,

while chaos claws,

inside my heart.

Sleep won’t save me,

dreams just glitch.

Hope’s gone missing,

left no stitch.

I dress in calm,

but my mind bleeds red,

while white noise riots

inside my head.

A symphony

of fractured dread,

not quite alive,

not quite dead.