Poem About Lust and Porn Sex Addiction

*Trigger Warning – contains elements of suicide, pornography, masturbation, and vulgar language.

This Is Not Love


I've fucked you
through the screen countless times.
Jerked and came to you,
even though you don't know my name.
Smirked in devilish delight
at your lack of limits,
and the way you smile, giggle, and moan
in pleasure during the most obscene acts.

But as I search for you
across the web on this dark night--
in between the thumbnail images of you
riding cock with so much vitality--
I catch a disturbing headline.
It seems you weren't having
nearly as much fun as you had let on.
Twenty and dead, slayed by your own hand.

And my own hand is still wrapped around my cock,
lusting after your naked body
but sickened by what my pleasure cost you.
You were someone's daughter,
someone's sister,
someone's friend,
and now you're gone.

But despite my emotional grief,
this selfish beast within me
can't stop wanting to see
you get railed from behind one more time.
Because the screen, like a glass curtain,
disconnects me from you;
it allows me to strip you of your humanity
and view you as merely an image--
a moving picture I can claim as my own,
do what I want with, and hang upon my wall--
instead of a precious child of God.

Bile rises in my belly.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I feel so disgusting, so dirty.
Porn is not healthy;
it is not harmless fun nor necessary sexual release.
There's a young woman who's deceased,
and all I can think about
is using her ever after she's dead
to get whatever pleasure I can
from watching the life
get fucked out of her.

This is not a fun, sexual feast.
This addiction, this craving
has reduced me to a beast--
no more than a selfish animal
driven by unrestrained desire
and confined by the chains of lust.
Yes, it's exciting and thrilling,
but I know in my gut
that we were created
for so much more than this.

This is not love;
this is a perverse sickness
that spreads by convincing your conscience
it's natural, nothing but fun and games.
Have we no shame,
lusting and feasting off
another human's pain?

This is not love,
but its ancient enemy,
consuming without giving,
leaving both performer and observer
wounded, lonely, and empty.

Justin Farley

Anyone interested in my published collections of poetry can find them on Amazon.

Pocket Pleasure Poem

Pocket Pleasure
Poem About Being Addicted to Your Phone and Technology

Every time I turn you on
and wake you from your technological slumber,
I feel your curses swimming through my mind - 
electrical impulses gripping me without consent.
And then I hate my neediness.
Hate my discontent,
unable to sit alone in the silence
without your warm glow,
without your unending hits of dopamine.

I'm addicted to a hooker
personally on call for me 24/7.
Who's ready and willing
to meet my every need.
Who's ready to stroke my ego on demand.
Who's ready to enrage me with the news.
Who conceals my flaws and accentuates my strengths.
Who vindicates me in the face of enemies.
Who lets me ride the tide of emotions on repeat.
Who never asks me for my money.
Only my time.

Justin Farley

Seasons of Winter Poem About Spring

Seasons of Winter
Poem About Spring

The ice is melting,
thawing away from the land,
flowing back into the hands
of its maker.
Nature's enchantment shatters
with a single kiss from spring
clinging to the warmth
of renewal, rebirth, reawakening.

And in each pile of snow
that dissolves my heart beats
with a disposition towards hope
sledding down slopes of solace
taking comfort in the possibility to cope
with my own seasons of winter. 

Justin Farley

Letting Go Poem About Trusting in God

Letting Go
Poem about Trusting in God

Troubles slip through my fingers like sand
as long as I cling to your commands,
letting your Word direct my way - 
floodgates to block and keep me at bay.

But it's never easy to deny yourself entry,
shackling your will under lock and key of the sentry.
Not more grit, more letting go.
Not what I can birth, what you can bestow.

There's no carrying crosses with only my will;
my volition is far too volatile.
I can get swayed by the winds of the world,
unable to predict my will after they've whirled.  

But you're unchanging, stable, and steadfast.
You provide strength and aid when we ask.
Bury pride and leave it dead in the dust.
Victory is praying through trials and learning to trust.

Justin Farley

Hello, everyone! I have recently published my first chapbook of Christian poems titled “A Voice in the Wilderness – A Chapbook of Poems about God”. This has been developed and polished over the past six months or so. I am happy with the final product and hope you find encouragement in the poems but also a validation that the spiritual life is not all sunshine and rainbows. We all struggle. We all have periods of questions and/or doubt. But it is the yearning that keeps us coming back for more and allows us to experience joy.
You can purchase either on Amazon or on my own bookstore (it is cheaper and has free shipping on my store) and is available on the Kindle and in paperback.
Amazon: Kindle Paperback
Inkspiration Books (my bookstore): Paperback

Thank you for your support!

Sweet Utopia – Poem About Social Media and Technology Addiction

Sweet Utopia

The sounds of motorcars
are noxious to the ears.
Fingers convulsing on the steering wheel
precede the piercing screams of honks - 
an abundance of impatience.
Where are you going in such a hurry?
Is it worth sacrificing peace of mind
for seconds of time?

Oh, yes I forgot...
You've got poisonous news to devour
and social media garbage to digest,
getting cold on a plate at home.

Push the pedal harder.
Forget "come to a complete stop".
More honks to get that asshole
in front of you moving.
Don't they know you're starving
and have been craving 
bright screen and mindless scrolling all day? 

Ignore your kids' greetings at the door.
Ha! That's a laugh.
They're alone in their rooms,
feeding on their own hyper-stimulation,
being raised by those lovely YouTube personalities.
It's comforting to know they've got such nice
boys and girls to keep them company.
How'd you get so lucky to have such quiet kids,
numbed in addiction-fulfilled stupor?

Shit.
Where did the time go?
Looks like another night
of little sleep
and a yawn-filled morning.
It's a good thing 
you saved that time
racing home from work
or you'd really be behind.
What a wonderful
utopia we've created.

Poem by Justin Farley

Hello, everyone! I have recently published my first chapbook of Christian poems titled “A Voice in the Wilderness – A Chapbook of Poems about God”. This has been developed and polished over the past six months or so. I am happy with the final product and hope you find encouragement in the poems but also a validation that the spiritual life is not all sunshine and rainbows. We all struggle. We all have periods of questions and/or doubt. But it is the yearning that keeps us coming back for more and allows us to experience joy.
You can purchase either on Amazon or on my own bookstore (it is cheaper and has free shipping on my store) and is available on the Kindle and in paperback.
Amazon: Kindle Paperback
Inkspiration Books (my bookstore): Paperback

Thank you for your support!

A Poem About Recovery Hope and Change

No Matter

No matter how hard it is
to keep the fire burning,
no matter how many disappointments
have visited you without warning,
no matter how many different trials
you've sat through today,
though the verdict may be hard to swallow,
tomorrow, tomorrow's another day.
And it may seem impossible in this moment,
but in time you're going to be ok.
For when you wake tomorrow
a new sun will be on the rise,
and you'll find a mustard seed of hope
sprouting upon the ashes of yesterday's demise.

Justin Farley

Hello, everyone! I have recently published my first chapbook of Christian poems titled “A Voice in the Wilderness – A Chapbook of Poems about God”. This has been developed and polished over the past six months or so. I am happy with the final product and hope you find encouragement in the poems but also a validation that the spiritual life is not all sunshine and rainbows. We all struggle. We all have periods of questions and/or doubt. But it is the yearning that keeps us coming back for more and allows us to experience joy.
You can purchase either on Amazon or on my own bookstore (it is cheaper and has free shipping on my store) and is available on the Kindle and in paperback.
Amazon: Kindle Paperback
Inkspiration Books (my bookstore): Paperback

Thank you for your support!

The Road to Recovery – A Poem by Justin Farley

The Road to Recovery

I tried walking away from madness,
seeking peace.
But found I was bound and a captive,
unable to retreat.
Astonished, I looked down at shackles
clasped around my hands and feet.
I have hollered until I was hoarse;
solitude is the only company I keep.
What is left now other than to shrink
within my cell and accept defeat?
But wait...what if this freedom I seek
lies juxtaposed to relief?
Maybe I need to start asking why
these feelings run so deep.
Yes, the road to recovery
begins with acceptance
and ends with peace.

Justin Farley

Poem About Addiction to Drugs Alcohol and Recovery

Starting Today

If resisting was an easy task,
who would be a slave?
Who would part with a piece of themselves
for the chance at an early grave?
Willpower alone is enough to put you in hell
but it’s not enough to pull you out.
You’ll never have a chance at getting well
until you accept living by a different route.
If change is what you want,
you’ll have to change much about you.
You’ll have to learn to become humble
and do what trusted advisers tell you to do.
The road is long and hard
but worth every step of the way
because you have the opportunity
to be free again starting today.

-Poem Written by Justin Farley

The Cost of Freedom – Recovery Addiction Poem

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The Cost of Freedom

Confining walls, prison cell;
there’s no shame in wearing a straight jacket
if it makes you well.

Dirty dishes, soiled clothes;
it’s a heavy burden to keep
your house clean on your own.

Hidden secrets, concealed lies;
they are the extent of your sickness –
the enemy of recovery is pride.

Foolish illusions, blind in the dark;
the most harmful delusion is believing
you can trust your heart.

Death’s agent, the loser’s bane;
sometimes winning means folding now
to remain in the game.

The humble lives, the prideful dies;
better to trust in another’s truths
than to keep living by your lies.

Safety in numbers, self-reliance self-destructs;
an unchecked mind quickly becomes
unreliable and corrupt.

Freedom is sometimes choosing not to be free;
better to serve a great master,
than sit on the throne of insanity.

-Poem and Content Written by Justin Farley

As a recovering alcoholic who’s been sober for almost 11 years and someone who can become addicted to about anything that makes you feel good, one of the greatest lessons I’ve learned in my recovery is the need to let go of my freedom sometimes. The hardest times in recovery are often the ones where we’ve still got one foot in and one foot out, believing that we can be both fully free and fully accountable living by our will power.

For me, I’ve learned that when I’m free I’m a slave, and when I’m a slave I’m free. Quite paradoxical, but I’ve learned that I can’t trust myself to do what I want myself to do. If I sit with temptation long enough, it will eventually over power me no matter how much will power I have.

We don’t want to accept defeat. We don’t want to admit that we’re weak. We want to continue to live by the lie that we’re able to conquer our demons on our own, despite file cabinets full of evidence to the contrary. Sometimes giving up some of your freedom is the only way to protect yourself from yourself. For addicts, I believe the cost of freedom is often freedom itself.

You want to be sober? Well, you’re going to have to give up the freedom of  being able to go to bars. You want to be free from addiction? You’re going to have to give up the freedom of hanging out with people that are still using. You want to be free from your shopping addiction? You’ve got to give up the freedom of carrying cash and credit cards.

Is it possible to keep all your freedoms and remain free from your addictions? Maybe. At least for a period of time, but it’s like playing Russian roulette, never knowing when your addiction is loaded in the chamber. Play long enough, and I believe you’ll eventually self-destruct.

For me, I’ve realized the cost of unchecked freedom is misery and death. And today, I choose to live.

You may also like my other addiction and recovery posts.

Poem About Recovery From Addiction – The Streets of Delusion

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The Streets of Delusion – A Poem About Addiction Recovery

I walked the streets of delusion
where the streetlights glow
with golden spheres of flame.

Dancing like fireflies in a glass jar,
their seductive splendor tempted me,
whispering my ego’s name.

I walked the streets of delusion
believing them to be paved
with adventure and romantic ecstasy.

Each footstep outpaced reason,
while my sole pounded values into the pavement,
And my feet stepped over morality.

I walked the streets of delusion
until life’s traffic slammed into my body,
cursing as I fell on my face.

Pride poured out of every gash,
every cut and every broken bone,
yet desire still yearned for one more taste.

I walked the streets of delusion,
or rather crawled without care of judgement –
broken, but not yet ready to accept defeat.

But suddenly stopped in horror
when I saw Death approaching
from the end of the street.

I stared down the streets of delusion,
wide-eyed and finally willing
to see the truth of where they lead.

No one is exempt
from reaping death and ruin
when they plant Destruction’s seed.

-Poem Written by Justin Farley

About the Poem

Every recovering addict remembers what it was like walking “the streets of delusion”. Inside every addict there is a point where you deceive yourself into believing that you are not addicted, that you just like to have fun, and that you’ll stop as soon as “x” happens. The elation that we feel while drunk or high is greater than the warning signs that surround us, and we turn our backs on everything that once mattered in our life for the brief comfort and feelings of power alcohol and drugs provide. The strongest and most dangerous lie that addiction tries to convince us of is that somehow we will outsmart a disease and won’t be like all the others that are on the same path we are on…that we can control it without recovery. We will somehow find a happy medium between sane and crazy, drunk and sober, addiction and recovery. Somehow we will keep ourselves and those we care about out of danger and prevent chaos in our lives, all the while brewing it wherever we go. The difference between active and non-active addiction is usually nothing more than an honest look in the mirror and having the courage to expose the lies that have led us down the path we’re on. Obviously admitting we need help is the next step, but until we get off “the streets of delusion” we will never see the truth of how desperately we need recovery and how out of control our addiction and our life has become.

If you enjoyed this poem, you may also enjoy my poem about alcoholism,“One More Taste”.