Clashing Poem by Leyla Steyn

He said you weren't allowed to have sex?
Didn't He know how hard that would be?
For those ravenous eyes and
Wet dicks,
To tempt you with a sweet smile and words of emotion.

The head becomes a potato,
A mashed one,
Brutally beaten
With thoughts of Yes and doubts of No,
And all the while your trousers long to be undone.

Easier for others while for some,
It's more of a death sentence
And yet your will is hard to fight
When he tells you that he's lonely tonight.

It's times like these hours
When one dreams of satisfaction
To instead dream
Of becoming a rabbit.