Ode To Poets

i don’t want to hear. stop your racket, let me curl up into my self. forget the new, the change, freeze the turning point melt my bones into quicksand love is like a disease; wherever you go, i most certainly will follow my body is a door the fist that knocks upon it is my heart the poets they, the dead ones speak of matters such as eternal, and everlasting excuse me, pardon me Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? beautiful, ornate, twirling speech like the spirals of Notre Dame forgive me please, my dear poets my words are plain, crude but they do hold my spirit. …oh, i digress, i flutter here and there **** know this: i travel you with me our paths never separate at least not to me in my mind i am stationary, still, steady only when i hear does the earth move under my feet only when i see do i feel off-tilt you. you make me spin off my axis, corkscrew out of orbit, hopscotch along the stars dodging comets, heartbeats, metaphors and tears only occasionally, i collide. ]words unbind me, but only sometimes[