Laura.  She tempts me much to self-abuse,
The sin of which is true love's evil twin.
I regularly sin by giving in,
Making a sock of fresh banana juice.
I struggle to resist, but what's the use
When future me is certain to begin
To tug himself (much to his own chagrin)
Thinking about her headlights and caboose?
The walnuts swell upon the walnut tree;
The sap is running—slimy walnut sap.
Her apples call my name.  They're teasing me.
The hardwood grows with vigor in my lap.
I burn to plant my seed deep in her V,
The garden of her earth, then take a nap.