Masturbation Regression: The Kind of Poem I Come Up With When Away From My People

[Palba_Noruda]

Brainstorms

Masturbation Regression

To do so no more is the truest repentance.
-Martin Luther

Now his change is scattered on the floor
His phone lies on the carpet
casualties of the way
he used one hand
to slide off his pants
caught at the cuffs
Peeled down
like a turtleneck

Surely the people
in the hallway can hear
Surely the people
in the next apartment
can hear the squish and
suck on his dick

Slow string of saliva slides
like a wet shoelace
into grubby hand

He remembers his father
"Boy, I'm going to talk to you about something tonight"
But he never did
Instead, the boy masturbated
in the family living room
sweating under the red and white afghan
the family sitting down for spaghetti
in the kitchen
He rubbing his dick with sweat
Getting off to NYPD Blue
Stroking quietly
His mother must have seen his face

Beige Beige Beige
The bathroom is all beige
One toothbrush
One magazine
One sink
The sperm slides from his fingers
like an oyster sliding from the shell
The thousandth time
The thousandth time this day
This week
This year

Afterward he ejaculates despair
surely everybody at work
suspects he's a masturbator
surely his parents
suspect he's a masturbator

Who will heal the hole?
Will he need stitches
to close the hole
where escapes his secret?
The hole caused by the rupture
of the sex drive
the hair on the crotch
the hair under the arms
in his nose
on his chin
slicing open the skin
The hair is the sex
leaking out his open flesh
How long can he hide it?
He can't hide his hair
Can he hide his sex?

The waiting for the thing to get bigger
Please get bigger
Every year, will it get bigger?

 

[Palba_Noruda]

Comments and critiques and criticisms most welcome.

Also, I've been thinking a lot of revision lately. How do you revise?

Also, I just want to say that I've been sitting on a bunch of masturbation poems and I really wanted to release one to the world somewhere and this seemed like the only place I knew. So thanks for being here.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Can't say I am an expert on male masturbation !

 

[Epmd607]

Can't say I am an expert on male masturbation !

I thought it was about female masturbation?

 

[UnderYourSpell]

It says 'he ejaculates' !!

 

[EroticOrogeny]

All but 2 stanzas have explicit male references !

 

[Palba_Noruda]

I thought it was about female masturbation?

Palba_Noruda is often mistaken for the opposite sex. Thanks for your feedback.

 

[Palba_Noruda]

Can't say I am an expert on male masturbation !

Thanks for looking at it, UYS!

I thought it was about female masturbation?

Palba_Noruda is often confused for the opposite sex. Thanks for your feedback!
So were you thinking it was the thoughts of a woman thinking of a man masturbating, or... ?

All but 2 stanzas have explicit male references !

Thanks for taking a look EO!

 

[Epmd607]

All but 2 stanzas have explicit male references !

Maybe it's an arty second person type of deal? She's telling him what he does in third person, cuz why else would a masturbation poem be in third person?

 

[Palba_Noruda]

cuz why else would a masturbation poem be in third person?

That is a very good point, Epmd, thanks for bringing it up. The poem is in third person, I suppose, because the writer of the poem is ashamed of the actions, it seems he does not want to take responsibility for them. He prefers third person in much of his writing, short stories, etc, because it's a way to hold the subjects out at arms length.

It could also be that in the absence of his real friends (see title), the author is trying to be his own friend, so he refers to himself in the third person as if he were another person he was hanging around with. Adult version of an imaginary friend?

This is probably the same reason the poem is credited to an alt. Even though the author's regular character here on lit is anonymous, he still finds it necessary to post this poem with a character who is even MORE anonymous. The author is interested to know why this might be, and likes to reflect on the thought that even though he has anonymous characters, he still feels threatened at times or supported at other times, as if the actual people he was interacting with here on Lit knew him in person. That's probably the subject of a different poem. Thanks again for reading.

 

[Epmd607]

That is a very good point, Epmd, thanks for bringing it up. The poem is in third person, I suppose, because the writer of the poem is ashamed of the actions, it seems he does not want to take responsibility for them. He prefers third person in much of his writing, short stories, etc, because it's a way to hold the subjects out at arms length.

It could also be that in the absence of his real friends (see title), the author is trying to be his own friend, so he refers to himself in the third person as if he were another person he was hanging around with. Adult version of an imaginary friend?

This is probably the same reason the poem is credited to an alt. Even though the author's regular character here on lit is anonymous, he still finds it necessary to post this poem with a character who is even MORE anonymous. The author is interested to know why this might be, and likes to reflect on the thought that even though he has anonymous characters, he still feels threatened at times or supported at other times, as if the actual people he was interacting with here on Lit knew him in person. That's probably the subject of a different poem. Thanks again for reading.

I just thought you were a submissive and your dom was telling you how despicable you were for wanking. The poem was okay, it wasn't the right sort of graphic, some images were original, some weren't; I'd keep working on it. The problem with writing from a Sub or Dom POV is one tends to fall too easily into what's expected of the sub or dom.

 

[Palba_Noruda]

I just thought you were a submissive and your dom was telling you how despicable you were for wanking.

I like this comment very much. Maybe I can access the old "inner dom" after all. Thanks, Epmd.

Any other comments are welcome. Thanks for your time.

 

[butters]

I'm coming back to this later. I think it's a pretty strong poem actually. The imagery's clean, the sense of desperation leaks across the entire length, and the age old teen-male desire for a bigger cock sums the whole up. I'm quite surprised this received fairly indifferent comments.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Honestly, I didn't read it because it was a single-thread posting and I usually can't keep up with those. However let me say I had no confusion about gender at all and the imagery was quite graphic. Disturbingly so. But that's good. I loved the idea of hair slicing the skin and the constant worry that people will know. I thought it was quite good.

 

[butters]

Masturbation as a comfort in stressful situations, a regression. A regression to the fraught teen years, where guilt, fear, self-loathing and denial walk side by side with desire, pleasure, and an obsessive need to release, when everything seems to be a conspiracy to stimulate. So messy, and not in a good way.

The imagery here drives this work, and reflect all the conflicts already mentioned. From the one-handed peeling of the trousers with its 'turtleneck' reminiscent of a retracted foreskin to these:

Slow string of saliva slides
like a wet shoelace

The sperm slides from his fingers
like an oyster sliding from the shell

slicing open the skin
The hair is the sex
leaking out his open flesh
How long can he hide it?

It's not all imagery and nothing else; underlying the snapshots of the lonely bathroom and the furtive wanks of teendom are the themes of distaste about the act now being carried out as a man as if some weakness, a small but telling comment about lack of parental direction, and the fear of rejection for doing something that is so very normal. There's nothing erotic in this writing - erotic's not where it's at unless you get off on feelings of self-loathing and sweaty guilt; it could well be the case here that the narrator DOES get off on playing and replaying those teen-scenes back in his head, that this is his secret more than anything else, but imo this runs deeper than that. It is a wonderfully honest portrayal of a voice. I'm not going to begin to state this is the voice of the author, his thoughts, his feelings, but the poem's voice is so damned true, starkly so, as to be convincing in its own right.

Throughout this, word-choices have struck me as the perfect way to go, and leave me respecting this author as a poet worth their salt:

grubby - sums up a whole sense of how masturbation's being viewed

the use of the family living room while the others are eating - like a trespassing on family conventions almost, a small and sordid transgression, less a minor rebellion - more an opportunity that cannot be denied

the red and white afghan - strongly visual and (for me) conjuring up images of sun-shy teen skin contrasting with a red-flushed face

the beige beige beige of the bathroom - bland, not a place used to the angry pinks and reds of sex, the bland bland family who never spoke of sex or needs or normality, hiding it all away clean as clean, hiding it all. a.way. the hidden vice.

If I have any critiques they'd be along the lines of choice of capitalisation - sometimes it works as stress-accents for me, other times I remain unconvinced, and I think the line "where escapes his secret?" is superfluous. You've already made it quite clear it's a secret activity. Does it bear belabouring the point? Similarly, I question the need for these two lines:

He can't hide his hair
Can he hide his sex?

Isn't this something already covered by 'How long can he hide it?'

Finally, the line that strikes me as most profound is a question:

Who will heal the hole?

I read this as the poet asking 'Who will heal the whole?" and that's what I take away most with me from this work.

 

[PolyLvr]

I felt it, deeply.
It brought back so many feelings, memories, and memoties of memories.

 

[Palba_Noruda]

Honestly, I didn't read it because it was a single-thread posting and I usually can't keep up with those. However let me say I had no confusion about gender at all and the imagery was quite graphic. Disturbingly so. But that's good. I loved the idea of hair slicing the skin and the constant worry that people will know. I thought it was quite good.

Thanks for looking at it, Pandora.

the beige beige beige of the bathroom - bland, not a place used to the angry pinks and reds of sex, the bland bland family who never spoke of sex or needs or normality, hiding it all away clean as clean, hiding it all. a.way. the hidden vice.

If I have any critiques they'd be along the lines of choice of capitalisation - sometimes it works as stress-accents for me, other times I remain unconvinced, and I think the line "where escapes his secret?" is superfluous. You've already made it quite clear it's a secret activity. Does it bear belabouring the point? Similarly, I question the need for these two lines:

He can't hide his hair
Can he hide his sex?

Isn't this something already covered by 'How long can he hide it?'

Thanks for taking the time, Chipbuddy. I think you're right about a couple of those lines being superfluous, that whole stanza is on the weak side.

I liked what your observation about the family.

I felt it, deeply.
It brought back so many feelings, memories, and memoties of memories.

Thanks for looking PolyLvr!

 

[Palba_Noruda]

___________gay____________________________________________
__________bi______________________________________
____straight____________________________________
_________gay__________________________________________________
____________bi____________________________________________
______________straight_________
____________________gay bi________________________________
________________________straight gay____________
_________ bi________________bi straight ___________gay__________________gay_________________________
___________bi straight________bi straight__________________
_________________gay____gay bi__________________________
___________________straight__________

 

[bluerains]

moving

what ever...means...keeps the lights on...

 

[Palba_Noruda]

______________________I know the way out of a laugh______________
____________________________taking shape______________________
________________________________suck and sob__________________
______________________________________beats me_______________
______________________Once I remember_________________________
___________________________all we can become___________________
______________________________permits_________________________
_________________________________licenses_____________________
____________________________________cards with stripes__________
______________________Stay on the misty stretch__________________
____________________________the first hustle____________________
________________________________final friends around_____________
__________________________________to_________________________
______________________________whisk__________________________
_____________________________to______________________________
______________________________yawn__________________________
___________________________twice_____________________________
________________________done________________________________
_____________________right___________________________________
_______________________step__________________________________
_______________ without legitimacy______________________________
____________jack bird journey midsummer_________________________
______________crest foot crown curb______________________________
_________________gray fallen log________________________________
____________________yield_______________________________________

 

[irishwoody]

I liked the negative images and the sense of guilt, fear, being found out and the questions posed about healing. Have the feeling the writer is providing a truthful glimse of the start of puberty.

Its sad to say - but common emotions re. masturbation I think..