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.