longer.blue

The static screams in my mind as I lie awake, Clawing and gnawing in my brain. The eigengrau behind my eyelids Fills with patterns, The same as the sounds in my mind— The black and white fuzz that a younger me Would call snow on a TV, Now scrambling around, Scratching in my ears, my eyes, my mind. No matter how hard I try to block it out, The scratching sound grows, Louder, louder— The static thickens behind my eyes, Like fog on an autumn morning. Each night, my eyelids stapled open, My screens all screaming at me, As I try to force my eyes shut, As if trying to push away an annoying sibling. Yet open they remain, Jumping from the ceiling to screen after screen, Then back to the ceiling, Like an insect trapped in a car, Crashing against every window Until it finds an opening to escape through. Hours after hours, Minutes after minutes, Seconds after seconds, I try to sleep—effortless, Yet the static stays strong in my mind. Seconds turn to minutes, Minutes to hours, Until the sun rises, And the static falls silent, Like a vampire retreating from the sunlight.