JAMES M. writes:

I’m ashamed of my familiarity with this subject [of pornography], and like so many others am living with damage done; I’ve seen things which can not be unseen. I was going to stay out of this but here’s a short poem I wrote about the feeling of self-loathing and hopelessness experienced by a man in thrall to a pornography addiction:

So disgustingly familiar,
I can feel it closing in.
Through open wounds which go undressed,
Here it comes again.

Welling up and seeping, spreading,
Cascading down and through me.
Cutting in, dissolving, shredding,
Fragile wisps of sanctity.

So familiarly disgusting,
In the grip of spectre hands.
Through open open eyes which drift, obsessed,
Here it comes again.

Transfixed now and transformed, dreading,
Search through blowing grains of sand.
Trudging on, my hunger wetting
Thorny gardens of the damned.

And it hasn’t been so long since last time
This wretched spell was cast without the potion.
And I’ve been weak so many times that now
It’s as if I’m simply going through the motions.

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