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Marked Forever: Softcore Innocence, Hard Lessons

For the This Is How I Remember It Challenge.

By Paul StewartPublished about a year ago 2 min read
Marked Forever: Softcore Innocence, Hard Lessons
Photo by charlesdeluvio on Unsplash

I can't remember—

the moment it became a thing.

I can't remember—

the moment it became the thing.

Though it was probably when I was weak,

when I—

wanted quick relief… quick hand shandy—

the stroke, the release.

-

In the beginning,

I only sought the breasts and thighs,

the vaginas and buttocks

of the fairer sex

from my standpoint.

-

The thought, the palpability

of the choke in my throat of

other penises

prevented me from looking beyond

the relative safety of entertainment with the softest of cores.

-

The pretty faces, contorted to be such,

everything kept out of reach,

beyond the frame or the final edit.

-

I don't recall the time

when a penis or two made it into the mix.

But then it was there and I—

I was jackhammered to always seek out

the sordid and iniquity.

-

Beyond the T and A

of the fairest of maidens,

the rutting,

the animalistic jutting of bodies.

-

No setup? Check.

If setup, nonsensical? Check.

-

Sex as part of everyday conversations

where sex is never usually a part.

Check.

-

Like I say. Like I always say—

I don't remember

when the innocence of a boy,

the intrigue in the mystery,

the desire for the unknown,

-

looking at those globes of mammary glands

became

the need for action with all glands:

protruding,

jerking,

squirting.

-

But it happened—

I was marked, tainted forever,

by the sweat, the veins,

the coarse dark brown and greying pubis

if they had any at all—

time period notwithstanding.

-

It happened, and I was forever tainted.

-

I sit in my mire, or

the remembered visage of my mire.

The mirage of mirrored, shifting lust.

I try to fight back those memories.

Though they still haunt me,

hurt me,

and never help me, as was always my feeling that they did.

-

If I give in and find myself

back in the memory, or chasing the reality,

by the time the scene ends,

I’m left lonely, lost,

full of loathing—

of myself,

and of the first photographed penis I saw,

when my world tipped

into darkness.

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: For the This Is How I Remember It Challenge, based on my experience with pornography, recalling when I started seeking out harder stuff compared to the topless pictures I initially was interested in.

Highly autobiographical. In case that wasn't abundantly clear.

Here are other things;

Filthyperformance poetryBalladFree VerseElegysad poetryartsocial commentarysurreal poetryStream of Consciousnessheartbreak

About the Creator

Paul Stewart

Award-Winning Writer, Poet, Scottish-Italian, Subversive.

The Accidental Poet - Poetry Collection out now!

Streams and Scratches in My Mind coming soon!

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    Written by Paul Stewart