I’ve been a member of an SA group in Albuquerque for the last two years. I have also been in therapy for three years. I have had my addiction since I was a teenager, manifesting itself in several types of pornography, then moving into prostitution and more recently adult theatres and Internet pornography.
The defining moment that forced me into therapy and SA meetings was when the police raided my home to find a few child pornography pictures among an assortment of adult pornographic downloads on my computer. Since then, my therapist has written the court and my church to say that I have an addiction to Internet pornography, not child pornography. I have also taken two lie detector tests that proved that I have never had any hands-on contact with children, plus comprehensive psychological testing that said the same thing… all of which the courts, society, and my church have ignored.
The event I have described has destroyed my life. Out of this horrendous period in my life, I have not lost hope, but instead express myself in my writings, on stage, and as a member of a group working toward just laws for sex offenders. I’ve written the following poem to describe my sex addiction as a beast on the hunt . . . leading to despair, a final desperate moment, and the decision to seek help.
Matt W.
The Beast
Blood-thirsty beast of the night,
Stalking, craving are his delight,
Prowling, cruising shadowy lanes,
Tearing at his spirit, agonizing pains.
Chaos, folly, fantasies on patrol,
Plummeting down a darkened hole,
Careening, the monster must be fed,
Powerless of the devastation ahead.
Nothing else matters, loved ones too,
Breaking hearts, he has no clue,
Forsaking family, friends, morality,
Living with shame, without integrity.
The tension brewing deep within,
The heat, the storm, an insidious sin,
Demoralizing release, tears in his eyes,
No tenderness, intimacy, only lies.
What is he doing, the two lives he leads,
His spirit, his demon, both he must feed,
Devout Christian kneeling in a pew,
Perverted visions consuming him anew.
Alone in his despair, his self-annihilation,
Hopelessly engulfed in a final desperation,
A hundred excuses mull in his head,
Continuing to obsess, he’ll surely be dead.
At the brink, pleading for his salvation,
Beseeching an answer to his temptation,
Looming within, a dreaded decision,
Truth, honesty must be his new mission.
Terrified, he humbles himself before his creator,
Inching forward, stumbling, a single millimeter,
Confronting the fiend, facing his life anew,
Unafraid to share his soul with friends like you.
