PMO creative writing

need4realchg

Fapstronaut
NoFap Defender
Please submit pieces/poems/haiku's that deal with your personal PMO binge/session, frustration, journey, success, whatever. I started doing this in a guy's journal, and it occurred to me, that rejoining the left and right brain hemispheres in this exercise is extremely difficult the deeper we are in porn addiction/brain fog, but it really helps you to see past the "pleasure" circuit.

The planned binge.

The hours lounging in around in comfy, easy access clothes.
The sugary salty snacks that need to be prepared.
The mindless surfing.
The “what if” emergency plan—what if someone knocks or she comes home unexpectedly... what’s my cover story?
The tv might be on on the background for when porn gets boring , Netflix is on standby perhaps?
The smell of self .
The grimy planning of “where do I spew?”
Once done , now I have to clean up.
“No cum left behind” policy.
The checking of emails/texts , you can have multiple devices at your disposal , like a crack addict floating from one addiction to the next.
Video gaming may give a slight respite while you give your reserves time to build back up.
Dimming the lights or closing the shades for the perfect pmo session.
Seeing time zoom by while dazed...

Before you know it, your weekend is gone and you condensed it into a handful of ejaculations.
 

I was nodding my head
at this sick thyme
Feeling the beat that you wrote
Tapping out the time

Addictions are afflictions,
That enslave us, mindless missions ,
To succumb to lust within
We all hate it, cause it’s sin

But I hate to make decisions
When I have these inhibitions
To look up “blank.com” and see hot chicks and soccer moms

Doesn’t make any sense to me
That My feelings rage internally
I’m bored, angry, but right now I’m sad ,
Can’t sleep or think, feel lonely then I feel mad,

Damn crazy feelings stuck on the inside
I want attention ... so maybe that’s why?

But hang in there my ppl
wait and see,
We gonna beat this shit
Nofap 4 life; who’s with me?
 
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'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, except for my mouse;
My stockings all clung to my butt that was bare,
With hopes that St. Nicholas won't find me there;
... (ran out of inspiration there)
 
I`m slamming urges like Shaquill
this shit is real
when it`s time to make a spill, i`d rather chill
cuz PMO ain`t giving me shit
so to get my bread and butter i`ll leave PornHubs in the gutter
huh, word to mother, it`s dangerous
heavier than a bag of fucking angel dust
 
Frozen around my soul like ice
Many different chisels but none hit deep enough
And none are quick enough
Only a flame from within will melt this
A flame which I sadly miss
I'm trying to find it and keep it lit
Searching in the depths
Trying to find what I miss
 
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