Ideas

Ideas come like birds
They make noise, they fly around
Sometimes they wonder in the void
At other times they want to be found
 
I am afraid of ideas
Once they land they make me sick
And the fever never leaves me
Before the paper bleeds with ink

Ideas never marry
They find lovers in every port
For them to pass the night over
They seek one is worth the court
 
Now they are leaving me
As fast as they came
The taste is bittersweet
Of joy mixed with pain