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ziva
Poems2
Words197
it starts as a hum in the marrow of the bone, A frequency tuned to a tower unknown. It isn’t a spark, and it isn’t a fire, It’s the desperate grip on a live electric wire. The world becomes patterns of skin and of heat, A hunger that moves on anonymous feet. Searching for mirrors in a stranger’s dark eyes, To prove I exist beneath all the disguise. I am building a bridge out of shadows and breath, To outrun a silence that feels like a death. But the bridge has no footing, the anchor won't hold, And the warmth of the moment is instantly cold. It’s a dopamine ghost in a crowded glass room, A burst of the bright followed fast by the gloom. I am full of the motion but empty of grace, Lost in the map of a vanishing face. When the static subsides and the curtains are drawn, I am left with the gray, heavy light of the dawn. Wondering why, when the hunger is fed, The heart stays so hungry inside of the head.
0
Mar 23
Mar 23, 2026 at 3:39 AM UTC
ziva
Untitled
it starts as a hum in the marrow of the bone, A frequency tuned to a tower unknown. It isn’t a spark, and it isn’t a fire, It’s the desperate grip on a live electric wire. The world becomes patterns of skin and of heat, A hunger that moves on anonymous feet. Searching for mirrors in a stranger’s dark eyes, To prove I exist beneath all the disguise. I am building a bridge out of shadows and breath, To outrun a silence that feels like a death. But the bridge has no footing, the anchor won't hold, And the warmth of the moment is instantly cold. It’s a dopamine ghost in a crowded glass room, A burst of the bright followed fast by the gloom. I am full of the motion but empty of grace, Lost in the map of a vanishing face. When the static subsides and the curtains are drawn, I am left with the gray, heavy light of the dawn. Wondering why, when the hunger is fed, The heart stays so hungry inside of the head.
Continue reading...
20
The door is clicked the screen is dark the air begins to chill And now the room is louder since the racing pulse is still. Its a specific kind of heavy a gravity of soul Like trying to fill a broken cup thas nothing but a hole. I count the pieces left of me I scattered on the floor Wondering why I’m starving when ive never eaten more. The guilt is not a sudden lightning sharp and quick and bright Its the slow and steady rising of a cold and gray scale light. Im an architect of secrets building walls I hate to climb Trading pieces of my future for a frantic slice of time. Theres a ghost inside the mirror with a look I don’t confess Who confuses being wanted with a cure for loneliness. Every "yes" was just a "no" that I didn't have the strength to say A way to numb the stinging of a long and hollow day. But the numbness has a price tag and the bill is coming due In the distance I have created between who I am and you. I want to wash the static off to scrub until I’m clean, To be a person once again and not a brief machine. But the guilt it stays like iron a shadow on the chest The exhaustion of a marathon that never grants a rest.
0
Mar 23
Mar 23, 2026 at 3:39 AM UTC
ziva
idk
The door is clicked the screen is dark the air begins to chill And now the room is louder since the racing pulse is still. Its a specific kind of heavy a gravity of soul Like trying to fill a broken cup thas nothing but a hole. I count the pieces left of me I scattered on the floor Wondering why I’m starving when ive never eaten more. The guilt is not a sudden lightning sharp and quick and bright Its the slow and steady rising of a cold and gray scale light. Im an architect of secrets building walls I hate to climb Trading pieces of my future for a frantic slice of time. Theres a ghost inside the mirror with a look I don’t confess Who confuses being wanted with a cure for loneliness. Every "yes" was just a "no" that I didn't have the strength to say A way to numb the stinging of a long and hollow day. But the numbness has a price tag and the bill is coming due In the distance I have created between who I am and you. I want to wash the static off to scrub until I’m clean, To be a person once again and not a brief machine. But the guilt it stays like iron a shadow on the chest The exhaustion of a marathon that never grants a rest.
Continue reading...
20