ode

As an ode to you,
my plan is to
shoot up to the moon.

When I get up there,
I'll bust it with my bare fists,
I'll crack it
and consume all that is
inside of you.

Your blue, your blood and brain.
Your swirling brilliance,
your paint and your nest.

To shoot up the moon,
to STEAL it's very essence
to nourish my SELFISH soul.

To shoot up
the liquid it oozes
that tranquily transcends me
through trances within
two-dimensions.

You are my sheet,
stained like the lunar sphere.

Your geometry, my religion.
Your light, my savior.

When I shoot up to the moon,
I'll aim a star-tipped arrow
down to the Earth.
I'll pretend to penetrate you
in the heart.