BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
A Work in Progress…Welcome Back!
I hadn’t seen this one before, and sadly I was bit disappointed. I’ll talk about this a little more after I watch the next movie, which it reminded me of, but if I remember correctly, I liked the other film, “Edge of Seventeen” far more.
I should write a real review of this. Maybe I’ll revisit it someday and do that. But see the next entry and I’ll talk about it more.
On April 14, 2020 I wrote:
“I watched this movie yesterday, which I’d owned for about 16 years and had never seen. It was great! I loved it. My only minor quibble with it was that they sometimes spoke very quickly so the subtitles were flashing so quickly across the screen that I could barely look at what was happening…but I suppose that’s my own fault for not knowing Spanish! I’m happy that I’m finally seeing these movies from my collection as I revisit others I’ve mostly not seen in years. ❤ 🏳️🌈 🏳️⚧”
Lookin gback now, in April of 2026, I remember loving this movie but at the time I wasn’t writing in depth reviews. This is one that plan to revisit at some point and give it a proper review.
At sixteen years old
the sex was degrading.
At sixteen years cold
my sex life was blazing.
At sixteen years gold
my next life: amazing.
At sixteen years bold
the sex was emblazing.
It colored my outlook
and flattered highlights.
It numbered black book
and lacquered my nights.
It painted my soul
with shades unimagined.
It tainted my whole
for decades and fashioned
me into myself
which was separate from others:
apart from my family, their God
and my lovers.
Sex was between
myself and desire.
Sex at sixteen
was a trial by fire.
Written by Jason Wright
February 23, 2020
The sky lights the fair
with the screams of potential,
The dry nights are rare
but the dreams are torrential,
Those infinite days
so meaningfully spread
in cigarette haze
in dreams of bloodshed,
Thus christened by squalls
killed there by heartbreak,
The crimson stained walls
are still there when I wake,
The beauty, the faerie,
the stud and the surgeon;
the ruby, the cherry,
the blood of the virgin…
I slake the abused;
I nurse and I wet…
I wake up confused;
I thirst and forget…
But the blood is still there
and my cock needs a stroking…
The flash flood despair
of a non-smoker smoking.
Written by Jason Wright
February 11, 2020
Knives on the slate
and discussion of death.
My lives of late
are now months bereft.
The veiled lure of cash –
(recitation complex)
A failure to crash –
(cessation of sex)
And all of it: meaningless –
(meaning too much?)
Is there any redeeming us
there where we touch?
Written by Jason Wright
February 6, 2020
In cold ninety-four
he stood as an emblem.
An old belle de jour
in young woman’s harem.
Collision of truths
with deception to spare.
Division of youths
with exceptional flair.
His eyes captivated (as eyes often do).
But lies separated (as lies often do).
And the words and the drugs…
they drowned out our laughter…
Though he still exists in the shrugs of disaster.
He certainly hates
the women he loved.
He treats them like shit.
He hates them because…
because they are women
who don’t hate themselves
so he can’t relate…
so he can’t compel them
to stay as confused as he was on his drugs.
He paints himself victim
and that is not love.
Written by Jason Wright
November 11, 2019
When Benjamin blushes
my grind starts to ponder
and that we are rimless is strange.
When Benjamin blushes
my mind starts to wander
and all that was sinless is changed.
When Benjamin blushes
the youth provides shivers
the ardor of which is infecting.
When Benjamin blushes
the truth behind zippers
is harder than one was expecting.
His blush
is worth a hundred thrusts,
His smile
worth a million.
His words may wax poetic
(prophetic?)
but is that wax a Brazilian?
When Benjamin blushes
my mind is forbidding
and my thoughts are wrought (led astray).
When Benjamin blushes
but who am I kidding –
I always have viewed him this way.
Though mostly in jest
and not at my best
this scribble provided amusement.
I’m mostly just joking
and being provoking
One must excuse my bemusement.
For we do as we’re bidden
when we can’t be ridden
when there in the gentleman’s clutches…
We are given permission
and all is forgiven;
ensnared when Benjamin blushes.
Written by Jason Wright
October 31, 2019
The look in his eyes
of innocence wise;
hardly has this blaze been stopped.
The cleft in his chin
makes us all want to sin
yet Charlie has always been tops.
But deep in the past
there’s a question that’s asked
and a standard comprising a prism.
Openly yearning
from hope he is learning
the answer is: “Lies are a prison.”
When left in the sun
and bereft of his fun
his toys melted into each other.
Left there in the heat;
deft care (incomplete),
his boys belted there to teach others.
His potency proven
is cogently human;
from Charlie the cowards took shelter.
Embracing his power;
his plaything deflowered;
young Charlie devoured his elders.
Written by Jason Wright
October 31, 2019
The last of summer fades
as future lovers trade on trust
the tasked discover glades
with suitors splayed beneath the thrust
the chill arrives with fever
as the preacher feins amusement
the thrill provides procedure
as the teacher tames a student
change of time once captured
in this prism light of fall
estranged sublime enraptured
in the schism bright of thrall
brought him to surrender
like agrarian set on fire
autumn victim’s splendor;
a grammarian of desire.
Written by Jason Wright
October 26, 2019
On the Monday train
Sunday’s tear stained aftermath
is muted, faded watercolor sketch
of last night’s confusion and misery –
with photo slides behind closed eyes
of family’s autumn life celebration,
Daniel’s text exchanges,
Brandon Lee Gameboy photo,
unseen moron homophobe hell discussion…
And Aaron’s weeping exhaustion
which left me reeling in confusion,
doubt, anger & regret.
Written by Jason Wright
October 21, 2019