(John Keats's Lost)
Ode to Absent Armpits

O! Yesterday my sweet Fanny left me
For some other poet – my poor heart swells
With pained and salted tears which long to free-
Fall down my cheeks. O God, it hurts like hell,
And the once high summer clouds now crowd
Me with heavy absence and sodden view.
I am lost and naked. I am a fool!
Coz I was so, so proud
To be her lover – as happy as two
Randy pigs fucking in a cool mud pool.

But thank God I've still got her old T-shirt;
Coz I'll press it against my longing nose
And snort her vapours until my quiver's pert.
O! Her armpits smell sweeter than a rose:
They dizzy senses senseless and my brain goes numb.
Her ev'ry pore exudes the sweetest dew;
Her skin beads like a leaf with fluid gems
Which crown my delving tongue.
O! Goddess Pheromone what hormonal brew
Fermentest thou in the depths of women?

No: no fairer smell than my fair Fanny,
I can taste her body within my nose;
I worship her ev'ry nook and cranny;
I'd follow her scent where e'er the wind blows.
But alas her fair winds have passed me by;
My sail is empty, my ship is still;
I have no compass and I have no mate.
She's left me high and dry.
All gone! The love, the laughs, the chase, the thrill!
And now? I'll just write odes and masturbate.