responsible clinician

i never say hello to anyone
i have no time for politetudes
as far as i can see that’s all nonsense
i just ignore patients who greet me on the wards

if the nurses
or godforbid someone’s lawyer emails me,
i have a stock response
it says, please do not email me at this address

i manage and treat, amongst other people, psychopaths.
my job is risk management and medicating conditions
my job is making sure i keep my job
my job is to protect society from its worst fears
many of the people i see appear detached, or angry.
some are anti authoritarian
these cases need to be carefully controlled
it takes years for these people to find the truth inside themselves
and that’s realistic, it’s just the way it goes.

i leave the pointless conversations, conversions
to the psychologists, it’s my asperger’s
i have good standing with the general medical council
and i am equality champion for the royal college of psychiatrists

i rarely discharge anyone, though i have recalled many to hospital.
the people i see can be irrational. it’s frightening.
and they are, secretly, frightened of me.

owen

owen smells of dead skin and cheap cologne.
there have been more conversations about
people like him in services than anyone else

nurse jackie screams, hysterically, this isn’t a hotel!
the doctors don’t even raise an eyebrow
no matter how much he shouts at them in ward rounds.
therapist suzy with the porn-loving, intelligent eyes says
you can’t save people
which may be the case
it’s a matter of experience.

owen sits there being sexist, racist, classist, charming, disgusting.
in front of everyone, he tells sarah
that her arse looks like a sackful of ferrets.
he’ll skank you for Haribos
then teach you not to be so trusting.

he smokes three vapes at once
you can hear his breathing down the corridor
he wears black combat trousers
he knows football, thinks he knows the world.

owen can leave at any time.
the nurses are waiting for him
to face reality.
his mother is waiting.
twenty five years later,
they’re still waiting.

once a year, they let him go out on his own
he heads to the kassam,
scores a teenth of laser,
smokes it and collapses,
ambulance to the JR,
that’s standard procedure
and then he’s proved his point.

these places were made for him
and the reverse.