The night is thick with darkness out of doors. The bright stars and soon-to-be full Moon provide the only light here on the preserve. The night bird sings her song of sorrow and I ache for her in my Spirits...it is said the night is darkest right before sunrise...tonight, I'm not so sure.
Sometimes, after I have swallowed my p.m. medications--the ones with barbs, thorns and tacks--I can taste the flavour of mein own blood and drink it as I would a Bloody Mary with extra hot sauce to make my throat scream for mercy. How many different medications am I eating? I forget. Some work - some do not - all have some sort of broken glass or something sharp attached.
On occasion, one of these medications--the one with the double-edged razors, the one that is prescribed to ease the noises in my head--fails me. So I listen. Tonight, I listen to the Brazilian Rain Forest, with crickets that sound as if these are the size of the panthers that roam the forest floor...there is a 727 parked in my back yard that has been prepared for take off the past hour or so, but it goes nowhere. Like the helicopters last night and the HONK!! and blasting of a cruise ship anchored in my pool...all are my guests, you see. All are guests...
The noises in my left ear are so clear and are what I perceive to be audible; yet are all some sort of false feedback from a prior time...a time when I did listen and hear with it. Today, I still do, but I don't really.
I want to smoke a cigarette, but I don't smoke.
My dear doctor has informed me that hearing voices is something that some patients with Meniere's disease deal with, that it is not unheard of, and patients have been known to hear entire conversations. Yet, my dear doctor does advise that I do mention it to my Mental Health Care professionals. So I will. Hearing and listening to voices in between my ears is nothing new for me...talking about it is.
By the way, no, I do not conversate with myself.
Really?
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