Schizophrenia In The Static Between Thoughts

There is a quiet place

Between one heartbeat and the next

Where the air flickers

Not loud

Not violent

Just a soft

Electric trembling

Like a radio tuned almost right

In that thin

Humming space

Voices don’t shout

They drift

They curl like smoke around the edges

Of a half formed idea

Whispering possibilities

That never quite settle into truth

Some days the static feels gentle

A snowfall of sound

Each flake a thought that could be mine

Or could be borrowed

From some unseen corner of the mind

Other days it crackles

Sharp

Bright

Insistent

Splitting the world

Into overlapping versions of itself

Each one tugging at the sleeve

Of my attention

But even in the noise

There is a strange kind of beauty

A constellation of fractured stars

A map drawn in trembling lines

A reminder that the mind

Is not a single room

But a whole house of shifting light

And somewhere in that house

In the static between thoughts

I stand quietly

Listening

Breathing

Trying to gather the scattered sparks

Into something like a self

That can hold its shape

Long enough

To feel real