I would like them to cease breathing,
silence the galling air I hear creeping
through their nostrils down their larynx
from their windpipe to their lungs. And out.

My nerves convulse, electric shocks
to my synapses as they chew
I heed the gulpy noise of their saliva
blending with their food. I hallucinate,

see hyenas devouring a screaming meal.

Aware it is not their fault I strive
to keep my calm before the clatter
of knives and forks abusing plates,
yet they also speak, one over the other

masterly creating a crescendo, of cacophony
jostling in my brain, some whistle,
others hum, others tap their fingers
ensuing excruciating pains. Contortions

in my stomach, I avoid them,
crowds, public transports, noisy places, friends,
dread their invitations albeit wine helps
it does not render me deaf enough,

instead of hushing they bought me ear plugs.

Sometimes I give in, take the kids to the cinema
playing each time my least favourite film
a depiction of my own personal hell
rustling packets, smacking lips, slurps,

the bubbly noise of spectators
sucking on straws amidst ice cubes. They cough,
they laugh, they snort, I hear it all
the murmurs, the blabbers, the mumble-jumble,

everything fights with my irritated thoughts.

My body tenses, loud swear words
pronounced in streets through traffic jams,
horns and blaring sirens pierce
into my heart confusing its beat.

I irrationally loathe them, deplore their lack
of consideration yet recognise it’s me.
Sounds rape me, torture me, destroy me
Inept to live in a blaring society, inadequate

I have retreated to the countryside, a recluse
in my abode. They say my ears are fine
there is nothing wrong with them yet some
venture to hypothesize I suffer from a small

malfunctioning of the brain, my synapses unable
to correctly convey, the intensity and message
of the sounds triggering my fight or flight response,
and slowly driving me insane.

[Features photo: Definition of Misophonia]