I looked into her eyes. The jealous storm

I looked into her eyes. The jealous storm
whistled outside the window, an obsession
with the clouds and her. Just look at how the Moon
revolves about the earth, how oceans lust
for her white cup. I start to feel I'm crazy
in my love and passionate art, I start to have

the object of my contemplation, to have
her in my hands. One cannot hold a storm
the same way one cannot hold words, the crazy
power they hold is a wild tempest obsessed
with nefarious destruction. It is the gross lust
of alchemical men she lights up with her moon

hung bright in the dark night. The soft-white Moon
is feminine, it rules the dreams that I have
in the overcast morning. I awake with a lust
for spirit in my veins, I am the storm
of Kingdoms over land. It's my obsession
to unleash a fury and disclose the crazy

passion of becoming. Love is the craziest
notion, the irrationally moving Moon
in Gemini, the cause of my vile obsessions
and mysterious wants. This illness that I have
that's ruling me, the intoxicating storm
that's sovereign of my nature holds my lust

in her mastery. We are but creatures of lust
on this moist earth, the inebriated craziness
of poisonous jealousies. I'm hearing storms
about the horizon, in the stars, in moons
that move about the other planets. She has
this quality about her that has obsessed

me with her body, I'm wanting to possess
her glorious boundaries, satisfy my lust
within her frame. This madness that I have
assails me daily, I am caught in the crazy
throes of love and loss. Imagine the Moon
without the timid stars, imagine the storms

without their squalls. I have a crazy idea:
that my obsession and discernible lust
is but the lunacy of moons and storms.