Sitting here it’s quiet or it should be, Tinnitus is troubling me. The constant wringing in my ear let’s me know it’s still here. When it’s quiet or I go to sleep up it let’s the volume creep until this crescendo peeks with pops and bangs and then it hangs right here in the middle of my ear.

My hearing goes and sometimes i don’t know what you say. Lip reading, getting the gist, back filling and finger spelling get me through the day, helping me know what you say. Talk clearly and steady but please don’t talk like I’m a baby carrying a teddy.

When it’s noisy I can’t hear, just the buzzing in my ear, my hearing aid for which the NHS Paid, helps a bit it makes it fade. But once it’s out the ringing is back like some sort of raid. It’s worse at night when my head is laid and eyes shut tight.

Then there’s a knock or a bang I wake with a fright wording if I should run or fight. No one else heard the noise, I regain my poise and realise it’s all in my head. I lay on the bed filled with dread about the rest of the night ahead.


On the Edge of Sleep

On the edge of sleep not going too deep where awake and unconsciousness meet. Where dreams are starting to seep into and out of low level sleep. Images come and go, no one familiar, no one you know. 

Body heavy unable to move, myoclonic twitches permeate the being in a sensory world no one else is seeing . Streams of light and colour tainted by darkness flash in the mind in a world on the edge of sleep, this world in which I would like to keep. My breathing is slow and deep inside in my parallel universe just short of sleep. 

I stir at noise and regain my poise hoping to drift back to that place on the edge, where darkness settles it’s head, when it’s needing it’s bed. Moments of panic, not knowing where I am, back in the real world on the edge of my mind. Yearning to return to that place again, that safe place from where I came. The place where no one drives you insane, the place I go to again and again.