Poets are mad,crazy because they can speak of their lovers lips and how those lovers collar bones curve perfectly so you may drink from it.

Poets are mad,crazy because they can speak about bones and how they can dance through your skin to reveal you are weak,frail nothing but fragile memories.

Poets are mad,crazy because in a pub full of people a single leaf that may try to escape winter would catch their eye.

Poets are mad,crazy because even in their sleep words swirl and dent themselves in their minds.

Poets are mad,crazy because whenever the wind blows,whenever the lips of someone loved moves they un code them and wrap them round their lungs.

Pets are mad,crazy because they cannot breathe without a pen,or a computer calling softly to them.

Poets are mad,crazy because they can write about things they have never experienced but still they come out like coins of silver.

Poets are mad,crazy because they can write about cemeteries and how ghostly streets  can be on the 26th of december.

Poets are mad crazy,because someone mere may just see the sun as a yellow piece hovering above,but they see it as a golden orb that signifies all life and love.

Poets are mad,crazy because no matter what they go through,no matter what they lose,no matter who they meet and what they experience,words will always be their first lovers and first friends.