April 2019 – BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG

April 17, 2019April 26, 2026

Reactionary

People tell me that I am strong,
for how else could I continue after years of
illness & betrayal?

I survive in pieces.

My emotional reactions
are out of proportion
to any given stimuli;
often paralyzing.

I weigh each circumstance
with fear and suspicion,
even when experience should
teach me otherwise;
yet it’s false negative is itself reinforced
through my inability to achieve
normality.

My scars have faded
yet they are still visible
for any who have an eye for them.

I am not easily gifted.

I should be grateful for any gesture
yet I’ve never learned the trick of it.

In the moment,
when reaction is key,
I falter.

I stumble to correct myself but fail.

Sometimes the struggle is internal
and weighs on me for hours.

Other times my failure comes
to me long after the fact.

Invariably I weep,
though I don’t believe
that anyone has ever witnessed this,
or if they have,
I doubt that they have
interpreted my tears correctly.

My tears are not subjective.

Shame and remorse,
blossoming from my eyes
as I contemplate how I can possibly
thank those who’ve been slighted
by my wounded psyche.

Written by Jason Wright
April 17, 2019

April 14, 2019August 11, 2026

Dancing Past

From January 1994 until September 2012
I used to go dancing once or twice a week.

Well, there was about a year in there
that I didn’t go as often.

I was in a relationship and I felt like going dancing
was like stepping out…
because the way I danced
usually led to men dancing with me.

Later, I realized that dancing gave me joy,
and I resumed my weekly routine.

But in the last 6.5 years I’ve only
danced a handful of times.

The change happened when I moved to New York.

My mode of transportation changed from private
to public…
and getting around all dolled up
became a slightly more frightening
experience.

In 4 months I’ll be 45 years old
and maybe 45 year olds don’t go dancing anymore.

People always tell me I look younger,
and usually I feel younger too…
but lately I’ve been feeling old.

Death has taken far too many friends and idols
in the last several years for me to pretend that
the time I have left won’t just continue to dwindle.

I tell myself I can decide to change.
To change back.

But I remind myself that I need to be out tomorrow
and Monday
and I should take things slowly.

And I know that I’ve somehow gotten old,
or at least that my thinking has changed over time,
that I think in responsible bursts
before everything blurs
and diminishes…
fading away into dust.

Written by Jason Wright
April 14, 2019

April 14, 2019August 12, 2026

Cry Me a River

You can never set foot
in the same river twice
with dreams underfoot
and genes that are spliced;
perhaps you may try
but it will not suffice…

You can never set foot
in the same river twice.

People cross bridges
before they arrive;
they make split decisions
and think they will thrive;
Perhaps it’s success
that they get out alive…

People cross bridges
before they arrive.

When people cross bridges
they often are scared;
they change their positions
but are not prepared;
too big for their britches;
too young to be spared…

When people cross bridges
they often are scared.

To those who cross bridges
before they can come,
they seem smart for wishes
when really they’re dumb;
they jump out of fear
because tears make them numb…

To those who cross bridges
before they can come.

Those
who
cross
bridges
before
they
can come
to them,

Those
who
choose
ig.nor.ance
rather than
con.se.quence,

half-assed and shivered
with current despair…

They pass over rivers
that weren’t even there.

Written by Jason Wright
April 14, 2019

For River Phoenix,
whose death at age 23 affected the end result.

For Anna Suisebrick,
who provided part of the concept.

For Celine Tobias,
who has shared her fear of crossing over bridges.

and for Carol Jackson,
who once shared this sentiment,
which I never forgot.

All my love!

Edit: Carol Jackson passed away in August of 2024, but she definitely saw this. She had no memory of passing on this wisdom to me, but I assured her that she definitely had and she kindly took the compliment. I didn’t see her often as an adult but I’d have liked to and when we did see one another, it was always a moment filled with love.

April 13, 2019April 26, 2026

Broken Beauty

I remember you,
the you before now,
the you from back then.

You were older than me
but you were young when I was,
glistening nakedly
as you ran in for water
after yearly mile run.

I didn’t know you well,
though we smiled for one another;
we drank and frequented
the same bars…
you, weaving in and out
of my existence…
you wrote letters from prison
to my dearest of friends,
and I thought perhaps you had died.

I drove you home once;
but I doubt you’d remember it;
you were drunk and clinging
to that night’s latest trick.

I was jealous of him
as I made sure you both arrived at your home safely,
as I ensured your survival and my own cuckoldry…
even as you stumbled from my car
at gas station to vomit on the sidewalk
and on my left rear tire.

You told me you were sorry
and you sounded miserable…
and that night’s lover looked embarrassed
if no less interested in sharing your bed,
not that I blamed him…
you were beautiful in your blindness
and completely unsuspecting.

You were already broken then,
but the glinting light
from those shards of self
shone like diamonds
in a world filled with pebbles.

That same night,
I drove home alone
to my little village farm house,
where I sprayed the vomit off my car
with a garden hose
in the far too bright, sunlit morning.

I never saw you again.

Written by Jason Wright
April 13, 2019

For Dale Lipke

April 10, 2019April 26, 2026