Jogging the Mind

Hello all,

Back to regular verse poetry with a fairly intense one that maybe will ruffle some feathers. This is a strange and sort of taboo topic but I think I love to center my poetry around degeneracy, so this seemed perfect. Anyway, let me know what you think about this poem, if you decide to read it.

Best,

JCO

Only Fans Organism 
I am covered in viscous desire, 
Again, under a pool of my own mire, 
Like an oil fire floating at sea, slippery, 
As it lies there on this belly of a liar 
Vying for self control—I cannot console 
Myself, can’t scratch that itch except to bankroll 
The witch that cast this curse on my flesh and purse—
Her Only Fans hurts--fanning the flattering flames 
Of her by splattering on myself, yet the 
Battering by my fist cannot extinguish 
The desire, and I languish over that same ire, 
The inextinguishable fire which burns for soothe, 
But within this masturbatory booth of ignorant youth, 
I find our purgatory and collective truth: 
We are all stuck in this fucking muck, shlucking but 
Never fucking and awe-struck by those running amok, 
Selling sin to those within while they’re without,
Not experiencing drought while we black out 
To them getting blown out until we come to, 
Tissue the residue and revert, unable 
To refrain—we strain and strain, yet: they remain.