An angry carer is what I am
I care so much, yet couldn’t care less
The anticipation of knaves and fools
Then crying out for the stink of simplicity
Whilst all around tortuous minds
Like gnarled trees in winter
Pour out their needs, demands and desires
As my head swims and flounders
In the sickly treacle inlets that lie
Between slime glad ravines
Of emptiness and destruction.
Neil