ramblings and things

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To Listen But Not To Hear

He sits there listening
But he doesn't  really hear
Or he'd pick up on my distress,
On my barely contained fear.
He's never walked my walk,
Never been in my shoes,
Not known a situation where
  You've no time to choose,
Just a finger on the trigger
In a reflex to survive
Fear being overcome by 
The instinct to stay alive.
He's never heard the voices
Or the agonised screams
Or seen the faces parade
Through his waking dreams.
He renews the prescription.
 He must know I throw away
For the only thing it does
Is dull my sense of the day.
A quick smile 
And he's gone,
His pager telling him
It's time to move on.
He doesn't know how
Close he came to death
As I overcame the urge
To throttle off his breath,
To wipe the smile from his face,
Ruffle that pristine white coat
By hands clasped tightly around
His smug, self satisfied throat.
It's time for me to go
Back out on the street:
In four weeks time 
It will be our next meet.
I don't pray, so I'll just hope he'll
Learn to listen and hear as well
And start to help me escape
From my own private hell.
 



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To Listen And Not To Hear