Walking Away

Some days are harder than others.

Some days his voice is so loud
that I can’t hear or feel anything else
without turning myself inside out.

It never lasts for more than an hour or two
(often times less than that)
but in that time he makes sure
that I have his undivided attention.

This can be problematic
and disorienting
when I’m in public.

Our communication can never last for long
because I don’t have the reserves.
It’s too all consuming to sustain itself.

He doesn’t like to be ignored
and I don’t do it on purpose
but it takes a lot of energy
and skills that I’ve not yet completely developed.

And paying attention to him can be dangerous,
but so can ignoring him. Clearly.

Sometimes he wants me to throw all of my food away.
He’s jealous, I think.

Some weekends, everything I plan on
falls apart because of him.

The way that I’m falling apart,
but seldom admit.

Every day that I don’t cut is a victory.
I know this.
But it doesn’t feel like the truth.
It feels like cowardice.

If I could just cut him out of me…
I’d be dead.

That’s the problem.

I think I’m beginning to hate him.
Hate myself.
Because he’s keeping me prisoner.
I missed the party on Friday,
the opera on Saturday,
the walk in the park today
because of his need…
and my aversion.

These feel like failures or defeats,
but is it a failure if it keeps you alive?

I try to talk myself through it
but my feelings are complicated
and often contradictory.

I don’t think anyone around me understands
and why should they?
It hurts being so alone though.

It’s just him and me.
Like when she abandoned me. Us.

There are people that love me,
which is incredible really,
because there’s a big piece of myself that’s missing.

He’s completely disconnected from me
and when that connection is made
the spark of that moment is blinding…
but nobody gets to see it but me.

Or maybe I’m wrong and people do see him,
or the absence of him?

Maybe people love me because of him.

I don’t really know.

All I know is that he’s closer to me today
than he usually is
and I’m alone
and I don’t think that’s a good idea.

Time to go for a walk.

Written by Jason Wright
March 29, 2015

Randomness (sometime around March 15 of 2015)

Earlier, Aaron and I were walking, hand in hand. He was on his way to work and I wanted to part ways at the grocery store but he wanted to keep holding my hand so we walked on until we did eventually part.

It’s so nice to not be in pain. Things aren’t perfect but the not being in pain is very appreciated.

Later…my stomach was worse than it has been in weeks. I’m completely wiped out but my brain still plays connect the dots with circular thoughts. I like that line. It just sprang out of me but could be used in a poem.

The other day Aaron said he didn’t know who Annie Lennox was. We have almost completely different musical backgrounds so I shouldn’t be surprised. I was aware of her in my youth but the first time I think I really fell in love with her was when I saw the film “Eward II”; she wanders into the gay film and sings Cole Porter’s “Ev’ry Time We Say Goodbye”; I didn’t know it was Cole Porter at the time or that he was gay until much later when I saw the film De-Lovely, which features John Barrowman in a cameo role playing a character named Jack: this always seems like an untold side story of Jack Harkness to me. Anyways…the Annie Lennox version of Cole Porter’s tune stayed with me long after the film (which I now own on DVD). Once, on a date with this guy Rudy, who has been lost to time, I heard Annie’s rendition again but this time it was in “Prelude to a Kiss” (another gay friendly movie from a gay writer); I bought the soundtrack the next day.

There’s a fictional movie, based on the writer of “Prelude to a Kiss” called The Dying Gaul; I remember that I liked the deleted scenes a lot and wish they’d been in the film…and that the film was far darker than I expected it to be. I should rewatch it someday. The writer / director, Craig Lucas also wrote Longtime Companion and I remember I liked a lot of what the film had to say.

I don’t like being so drained of food and energy and my throat hurts from all the…I don’t even want to go there. I just took a shower. Our shower doesn’t always work but they’re trying to fix it. Tonight I got lucky and it worked beautifully. I shaved though that wasn’t my intent. I sang Cole Porter’s tune in the shower and thought about the lyrics:

“There’s no love song finer
But how strange the change from major to minor
Ev’ry time we say goodby.”

Like when Aaron & I say goodbye. Love that song. I remember Janice commenting on the key shift and liking it.

Edward the II tells a love story between Edward II & Piers Gaveston; it’s based on the play by Christopher Marlowe. The film is stunning and the gay pride opposite of it’s representation in the Mel Gibson epic “Braveheart”; I actually love both and view Edward II as a sort of more honest sequel. Tilda Swinton was in the film Edward II. The film is highly stylized and so is almost everything I’ve ever seen her in. I like her. She did some strange performance art piece not long ago where she was on display in a glass box in a museum? Did I just imagine that? lol. I used to have a lot of artful pictures taken of myself. I have tons of nudes; some of them are more graphic than others…and I dislike that I don’t have them on display anymore but I’m not sure where I could post them. Perhaps I’ll start a CENSORED photo album on facebook. Maybe the censored aspect could make some sort of statement. I find the censorship of nudity to be ridiculous and insulting.

Anyways. I’m exhausted and I’ve done very little. Maybe I should sleep.

Edit: This rambling was first written a long while back but because I was forced to save it in a collection on Facebook it says that it was last edited on March 15, 2021. But it was “liked” by Kelli Parker, who died November 25, 2020. It was also liked by Serena Shoshana, who I was friends with only briefly, when she went out with a friend of mine in 2015. So this was likely written in 2015. March of 2015.

Over Wright

Inside impossible 3D movie
Aunt Thelma speaks of trips taken with her parents
who were my grandmother’s parents
though I didn’t think that in the dream.

I watch the footage around me
as it skitters through different years
until I see a faded image which may have
been myself dancing (only it’s not)
which I notice as I approach
after shouting out “It’s Me!”
only there I am, walking away
because he will not go to camp.

I walk up beside him
and take his hand (or is it mine?)
which he can’t feel
because he’s stuck in the past
and I’m merely a projection of some kind,
a rejection of some mind,
but I tell him:

“I know you can’t feel me,
but I’m here and you need to hang on…
because your life will get better.”

I really say that,
like I’m some fucked up Youtube
Stranger Days scifi
gay teen After School Special.

Thieving assholes
attempt to steal retro-futuristic
gizmo thingy,
source of my cross time travel bullshit…
but I won’t let them escape –
I tackle –
and they go down harder than I ever have.

A young older man
who looks like a younger David W (not my dad)
tells me that he’s amazed by the season finale of “The Good Fight”
but he won’t watch any longer because he’s turning off the service….

He wears a black leather jacket.
I tell him I’ll send him copies.

The two girls he’s with are pressing on me;
making fun of me
but I know they’re doing this because they like me
so I tell them I’m gay,
that I suck cock and to leave me alone.

I walk away but look back and tell them not to behave
like it’s a disappointment because it’s fucking awesome!

They regret and search for me (the 3 of them)
but I hide.

The bouncy castle must be a hell of a place to work.

Later, on the farm, Mrs. Brooks visits me,
asking if I’ll record something for her too,
a program that I can’t remember now.

When she arrived I was looking at roses that I’d planted
in the left back garden corner
where I’ve dreamt of soft core porn adventures
and experienced them as well….
I had been planting seeds using a gun
with special bullets that turned themselves
down into the ground and then released the seeds…
but hating the use of the gun I stopped firing and poured
the open shells around the base of a tree – that’s when she arrived.

I read of such differing things in a newly Dusted book.

I asked if she’d like to take a walk
and she said she couldn’t go far
but we walked around and past the longer than usual
front of my family’s home.

I woke, worried for Aunt Thelma.

In the dream, she was on a diet but had
given in to temptation.

As I sussed out the contents of my head,
I remembered the hot guys
who have no dicks
but are tops (with their Thunder Sticks)
and are somehow more beautiful
despite the seeming flaw of their condition.

This isn’t poetry
but fuck it.

Written by Jason Wright
March 10, 2018

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