Static Diary for the Broken Gods
By Sabyasachi Roy

light everywhere. no pattern. just seizure glow.

like lightning forgot the memo about silence.

scribbles in midair. language melting.

electric handwriting—can’t read it, can’t stop staring.

the room bends. time slides off the wall.

someone laughing through a blown speaker.

you ever feel your pulse trip over itself? yeah, that.

that’s the sound in here.

everything’s too close. too bright. too goddamn alive.

lines of fire arguing. neon veins leaking alphabet soup.

maybe that’s prayer. or static dressed like forgiveness.

I tried to name it—it bit back.

I tried to hold it—hands became sirens.

whole sky twitching. color migraine. sound made of teeth.

nothing still, not even the quiet.

motion pretending to mean something.

every thread of light—forgetting where it came from.

chaos hums. soft, like blood under glass.

and somehow—it feels like home.