Different;
You heard me,
that's what i'll always be.
Maybe not to my eyes,
but to yours they will see.
Different is the word to describe
the abnormalities in ones self of
individuality.
I' am different because your music taste is awful,
but who am I to judge ones flavor in artistry.
You **** me in and ******* out like a dragons fire.
I' am the girl who you never thought you'd heard.
Different is what they call me, and in some other terms
just a freak in disguise.

It ******* ****** me off
When people say something
Mumble something
Whisper something
Speak OneLongWord,
And because of a hearing loss
I don’t quite hear,
And they respond with
“It doesn’t matter”.

It does ******* matter
I just didn’t hear
And need you to repeat it.
I need you to repeat the whole sentence
Not just the first part or the last part
The bit I’ve already heard.
Sometimes I’m just missing a key word that makes the whole sentence fall into place
But without it
Confusion
Misunderstanding
Wrong end of the stick.

Or they mumble under their breath
A hint of exasperation in their voice
Annoyed you’re interrupting their flow.
Don’t you think I’m frustrated and angry too?
Missing subtleties and nuances of what import say you

It’s Discriminatory
Disrespectful
And hearing-ist,
I can’t ******* help
That I’m deaf.

It leads to
Feelings of
Missing out
Losing out
Feeling dismissed
Discarded
Not important
Not valued
- The story of my life.....
Disassociated
Feeling on the periphery
Never quite fitting in
Never quite getting the joke
Laughing along
Pretending
But no ******* idea what’s going on.

When I ask you to repeat something
I mean just that
Patiently
Slowly  
Compassionately
With
Understanding,
And. in. individual. words. not. one

Sometimes love and hate are hard to differentiate.
They both give me sensory overload,
Even when there is nothing to
touch
When there is nothing to
Hear.
Silence can turn into screaming when I think about you.
I am bound to go deaf.

Working martyrs of the boulevard un-ring bells
Over bleachers in heaven and box seats in hell
While the simple saints with time to serve
Just hold their hands up on all the curves

My blue Jesus take a look at me
And whisper to me what you see
Bind me up and draw me near
Make me strong enough to hear

I've always had really bad wax
Still do
I use q-tips
to pull out bits and pieces
and I can hear the world

Looking without seeing
Hearing without listening
Eating without tasting
Bleeding without feeling
Pacing but not walking
Hoping but not praying
Crazed without lunacy
Taking without wanting
Breathing but not living

Surrounded without belonging
Alone without loneliness
Saying without believing
Speaking without thinking
Desperation is overcoming
As I try to find a way
To not breath without living

What sense do you consider the most precious?
Among the five: sight, hearing, taste, smell, touch
The four-year-old me would say it's taste
Upon licking her first mango-flavored ice popsicle

When she rode the bus and watched the sunset,
It's sight because it reminded her of some crush
And when they reached a mountaintop
There'd be no better view than city lights at night

Teen days came and she discovered emo music
Which she blasted through earphones for hours
This, along with her cat's meows & purrs
Comforted and made her say "I'm glad I hear"

At dawns on weekends, she strolls the coastline
Sniffing the scent of the sea as it kisses her soles
Or she'd be on the neighbor's garden
Finding the healing smell of a flower or its roots

Tomorrow, she'll find a lover thoughtful of hugs
She'll admire the sculpture of their nose bridge
The sensation when their lips touch
Smiles between kisses, making her the happiest

I can't choose one
My favorite sense changes with time
With new situations, with new discovery

When I hear the ringing of tinnitus I get anxious
That I can't sleep with the drizzling rain again
That when allergy stuffs my nose before sleeping
I can't wake up to a friend's gift - aroma diffuser

Only after sore heartbreaks can one appreciate
How lulling it is to slam the keys of the piano
How satisfying it is to drink water after starving
Locked in the room, crying over past pictures

I  love them all equally
With each passing minute, observe them
As they occur naturally in everything