BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
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The day after dreaming
of lakes and of drowning
with lost lovers speaking / escaping / surmounting…
The day after Brian
had turned forty-two
(though former Hawaiian was lost to me too)…
The day that a cousin
came out to heartbreak
and family treasure was lost in a lake…
When Aaron confessed
to the death with his crying:
Was my dream of sex
just prediction of dying?
Written by Jason Wright
July 30, 2018
Go or stay
with a scream or a bow,
Blown either way
I lose TRUTH somehow,
His passion on one side;
Her gift on the other…
I can’t please them both
without shaming the mother.
I can’t malign length
with her eyes watching me.
I shan’t find my strength
with my lies crushing me.
I write to stay sane
when I go to repress…
“Poetry priest when I can’t confess.”
When NIGHT SILENCE falls…
When I am restrained…
When FRIGHT VIOLENCE calls…
When I’m all that remains…
When I am restricted
although it betrays me…
“I am conflicted when poetry saves me.”
Written by Jason Wright
July 29, 2018
In the dream, on Brian’s 42nd birthday,
Aaron drives into lake,
which covers family riches.
And back at campground
I find well adjusted Michael,
with his playful latin lover,
who allows us our alone time
to heal, cuddling naked
and sharing our long overdue kisses,
shared decades after repeatedly fucking
for close to 10 years
straight.
This is something
that he wanted for so long
and I try to let him breathe
and I’m surprised to learn
they fixed that years ago –
I didn’t know that they could.
He’s happy and clean,
old with regret yet somehow
young in the satisfaction
of decisions finally made.
There was
no wife –
no children –
no victims –
and he was saving himself
before drowning in his own lies.
Written by Jason Wright
July 24, 2018
When he told me the truth
that I’d gotten wrong
it hurt so much worse
and was hard to be strong;
temptation intense:
self harm / sabotage…
I thrive and survive
and contrive camouflage.
Disguise is not weak.
This lie is a wish.
Tis wise to seek
ties to the guys we resist.
For licentious need
is endless exposure…
Keeping friends close
and enemies closer.
Written by Jason Wright
July 20, 2018
He stops for the man
who is married to dread
and he tops for that man
who is buried in bed
he doesn’t confess this
just gives me his mixture
to soothe and undress with
dishonest elixir
which damns us together
in lust and veracity
stranded forever
in thrust haunted chastity
you envy this bleakness
where no one consoles me
Men need their secrets
as someone once told me
for honesty complicates
just as deception
consciously motivates
trust as erection
as I read the words
unconfessed by my spouse
I die when: “I want your dick in my mouth.”
the pain is intense
but the lust is mutation
insane that incensed
I conduct masturbation
Written by Jason Wright
July 15, 2018
In the theater
there is no escape
no respite
from disturbances
however minor
or intense.
I try to ground
try to limit the annoyance
and focus on the other worlds
flashing before my eyes
but it fades into a mishmash
of barely recognized words and actions
I feel nothing
except a mounting terror
that I will disappear again
and wake somewhere unknown.
I pull myself into the present
but I’m just as lost
as if I’d walked into
a completely different film.
I want them to rewind
but the projectionist
is an unforgiving dick
so I try to feel out
what I’ve missed
as I continue to struggle
with language and context.
I ask Aaron
where a character escaped to
but the movement returns and
I can’t hang on to the moment
and having asked twice
in his panic stricken voice
I argue internally –
what are we to do?
I turn from the screen
which has become a spoiler reel
which would ruin the film
when I finally get to experience it
in full.
I weep,
holding Aaron’s hand
as I’m left behind;
he wants to see it with me
but I’m not even there…
just a cacophonous shell
in which I hold my younger self
and try to convince him that
we are okay and that
I know how to get us home.
Outside,
confusion threatens destruction
but I know north from south
and east from west.
I head north
and then east
surrounded by revelers,
I make note of the Avenue names
until I reach Madison,
when I realize
I can navigate towards therapy,
where instinct will kick in
and return us safely to our home.
Written by Jason Wright
July 4, 2018
I was going to write to you
about the nightmares you inspired
but amidst distraction
I scrawled: 2/27
and I decided to follow that path instead.
I do that now.
I observe seemingly random behavior
and allow it to take me
somewhere unplanned
until I reach the end.
“This is not the end.”
A bumper sticker
on trashy artsy wall and:
“EAT MY PUSSY SO I KNOW IT’S REAL”
which strikes me as poetic
and insightful, rather than profane…
sad and beautiful
until Madonna’s Sex Book Mix
of Erotica starts playing
and I dance myself to distraction.
Written by Jason Wright
July 2, 2018
The train is parked in Harlem
where a desperate portion
of Trump’s thousands are now kept
in confusion, doubt and
heartbroken tragedy:
a trauma that will haunt them
for all of their days.
Is this how they were shipped here?
In crowded fear drenched train cars?
Where have I heard that before?
His overcompensating tower
shadows the city,
forever tainting the old neighborhood
of black spanish jazz renaissance…
How many other Cotton Clubs
cross red, white and blue
are infected with his orange sacrilege?
Written by Jason Wright
July 2, 2018
Poem written but untitled on July 2, 2018.
Title given July 11, when Green Day’s “American Idiot” single was reported to have re-entered British charts in response to Trump’s upcoming visit.
Air conditioned train car is nearly empty
but filled with conversation.
I wonder why it is
that they talk so loudly?
Impairment? Desperation to be heard?
An aching need to be continuously annoying?
They’re young;
perhaps mentally
they are still in
the noisy schoolyard
and must scream to be observed
in that wave of riotous infants…
Or maybe Mommy & Daddy
never noticed them at all
and they howl for attention,
love and affection
while Mommy
drinks herself
into a senseless stupor
and Daddy lies
forever
six feet under
unreachable.
Howl if you must.
I’m not bothered.
I just hope that one day THEY hear you.
Written by Jason Wright
July 2, 2018