The gobble de gook monster on your shoulder

do we get wiser when we get older?

I remain stuttering mumbling

my mind rumbling

with thoughts

I can’t actualise or realise

I cannot translate between mind and pen

and even when

I try to speak my tongue drags across the words

like a flat tyre on a bike

I wish this gobble de gook monster would take a hike

but he’s a part of me like the stories I tell

and even hell

is something I can’t be without.