Four a.m.

Standard

A late night conversation

across computer screen

Breeds quiet desperation

For thoughts sudden unclean

And slowly typing answer

And savoring the rise

Of constructed glowing-after

A knowledgable surmise

My passion has you craving

Without a single touch

Satisfaction long delaying

Brings forth to my own blush

How wicked you must see me

My thirst for hungry words

So oft I am receiving

In lust my will inured

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About Keats

Oh I'm sassy and I'm sexy, So silly sweet-and-sour Delightfully disastrous And deliciously dour I'm flippantly foolish, Filled I am with fear Can't concentrate completely, and my conduct isn't clear But to bravely be my best I Bring bravado back, BEHOLD!

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