A Street Lamp Flickers
A street lamp flickers into light.
Another night begins.
There is silence, a dull quiet,
a lack of sound,
and it fills my ears.
The steam whistle of tinnitus
begins to boil my brain. It
isolates
and brings solitude, even in company,
even when other sounds, people,
traffic, television, loud
and louder sounds,
should overpower
the screech.
Alone.
The sound is loneliness
echoing around my skull.
I sometimes wonder
how it might be
if there was someone,
anyone,
to talk to.
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