lust 2 avi and william keats  (old poem)

as her eyes throw their glance across the
room i respond (unspoken) to her unspoken
promise of some poetic awe-inspired dying...
and though i know the toxicity of romance
(and i know that the anesthetized coma of
post-coital redemption is temporary) i learn
not my lesson and i ask for death...so these
poisons steal me (of sound mind and of my
own accord) to her womb invitation...and
then relief that only comes from at long
last propitiating an irrefutably alluring
temptation...and with no intent of further
conflict with the hormonal-primitive...i let
the last air of resistance from my lungs
like a sigh...crystal chrome orbs of breath
raise swiftly from windpipe-lips to the
surface of these dusk-waters...but i lost
in her aqueous tomb (eyes rolled back in the
skull) sink to the depths...and i drown...
content...in these quiet moments...