La Bete

I sit and listen, patiently
Formal and fully composed
A "good listener," attentive and polite
Offering guidance, an alternative perspective

But her words are arriving rapidly
A steady stream about a "cauchemar"
Or nightmare visitation from
Her own version of hell
Even now whispering in her left ear
I just can't quite follow
Wondering if it's her anxiety,
A manic "episode" in her bipolar syndrome
These variables slipping a joker into the deck

"Monsieur s'il vous plait pay attention these voices
are not my own cannot you hear them ordering me
to cut your throat unless you believe everything
I say are you deaf?!"

Not deaf, my sweet
A little slow on the uptake
Pausing to consider carefully
And reflect on my own experience
Which I submit has been considerable
A little respect would be in order

"Mais monsieur idiot even now les demons sont all
around us and you choose not to see really
see them as they hatch les enfants in this
small salle that you call a home"

Enough!  I do have my pride
Ordering this little beast to leave
And dish up her imaginings elsewhere
I have my own difficulties to deal with
A shortage of cash
Multiple health issues
A lack of inspiration
Groping for fresh ideas
The ones I do receive hopefully presented
Without becoming completely incoherent
A solemn madman forevermore

Possibly some kind of mantra, a prayer
Just a few more mots
To keep my own demons at bay
Particularly the ones of solitude
Somehow I miss La Bête already.