The Good Listener

The words coming out of my mouth

Are not the ones that inhabit my head.

They cling to my tongue, suckered and barbed there,

Crawling back home. Delivering platitudes to you instead

Of what I want to say.

Or what I need to say

About the demons keeping court in there late at night.

But its alright –

I’m still your listener.

My only purpose here’s to hear your plight.