I’m going to be a little open and vaunerable here…  I have a sexual attaction to women with chainsaws.  I’ve had it for years.  I masturbate to pics of women with chainsaws.  As a Christian I know masturbation is sexual sin, but it’s one fo the few things that makes me happy.  I wrote this poem a long time ago to describe how I feel.  I’d like you to read it and comment on it if you’d like.




Chainsaw Fetish


There she was

The woman of my dreams,

The woman of my deepest, darkest secrets,

The woman of my fantasies


Tall, blonde, and sexy

Everything I dreamed about in a woman.

A lumberjill.


A farmer’s daughter from Wisconsin,

Long, thick brown caulked work boots

Orange chainsaw chaps and a jacket

All the PPE

And a Stihl MS 880 Magnum chainsaw

with a 48 inch bar


She was skilled with the chainsaw

She was practically born with a chainsaw in her hand.

She loved logging

She loved the outdoors

She loved cutting wood

And I was falling in “love” with her


I saw her

We made eye contact

She started looking arousing to me

Teasing me, taunting me in a sense

Building up passion and mixed feelings inside me

Something so wrong yet so right



I was aroused

I was stimulated

When she pulled on that starter cord

And the angry saw roared to life

How could someone so feminine yield so much power?

And why was I so fixated to that?

Was it from my childhood? My mom? My dad?

My friends?

Was in growing up in a farm town in western New York?



I kept my distance as he hungrily eyed a large dogwood tree.

That would be her kill

Cutting down a tree

The most violent act of nature

Yet so arousing

A mix of emotions

An environmentalist and a consumerist warring on the inside.

Should I be repulsed?

Should I even care?

Why am I so fixated?

Shouldn’t I let her do her work in peace?

Isn’t it dangerous for me to be here

Physically, morally, emotionally, and spiritually?


She cut her first kerf

Took her first bite

Out of that mighty dogwood

So tantalizing yet so wrong

Sawdust, exhaust, sweat

The second cut

The loud noise

The saw idels

“Timber” yells the woman

The tree falls.

Should I be sad? Should I be mad?

Am I really glad?


She cut off the limbs

She bucked the logs

Smiling at me

Tantalizing me

Arousing me.

I am sweaty

My pulse is raging

I want release


She skidded the logs to her portable sawmill

The bandsaw roared to life.

Out of the dogwood log were hewed two timbers

Like railroad ties.

Again I watch





A fantasy and a nightmare come true.



Then a Roman centurion – how anachronistic

Buys the two timbers

What does he need them for?

Why does she look at me while making the sale

With a crooked grin?


Now I am gazing on a hillside

In other horror.

As Jesus

My Creator, My God

The Lover of My Soul

Is crucified

Scorned and taunted.



Then I hear this evil laugh behind me.

It’s that lumberjill

She’s laughing at my Lord

She’s laughing to me.


I have been a fool.

I have fallen into sexual sin

I have gazed lustfully at this lumberjill

When she cut down that tree

And hewed the timber from the logs

Timber that my Lord was crucified on.

But what hurt Him more?

The nails or my sin?

Why do I hurt my Lord,

Why do I crucify Him,

With the lust in my eye,

The lust in my heart,

Over the very things I hate.


Why does this perpetuate?

For years I’ve been in a prison

From which I cannot escape

Carved by wood

Cut by women with chainsaws

Distancing myself from God

From my future wife

From my future kids

From my destiny.

I am bound by a chainsaw fetish

How did I get here?

And can I ever be free?

God Almighty, how can I be set free?





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