Static

I am raw wire,

buzzing, snapping,

electric with nowhere to go.

The air claws at me,

thick as tar,

mocking in its stillness.

Every second stretches

like barbed wire pulled too tight.

Irritation chews my bones.

It is not gentle.

It is not poetic.

It grinds like teeth on stone,

like gravel dragged across glass.

I am stormcloud strangled in silence,

my thunder swallowed,

my lightning held hostage.

This waiting burns holes in me.

Patience tastes like rust

metallic, bitter,

coating my tongue until I choke.

I want breakage.

Collision.

Something to split this suffocation wide.

Instead..

silence presses down,

and my skin hums like it’s ready to tear.

I am not calm.

I am not still.

I am static under flesh,

sparks gnashing at the cage of my ribs,

demanding release.