BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
A Work in Progress…Welcome Back!
Bleak sin plantation
of bitterness bleach.
Darken my eyes
and study my lips.
Speak incantation
of gibberish speech.
Pardon my thighs
and bloody my bitch.
Night I decided was
night never chosen.
Blood suck syringe
pause rejoice afraid.
Sight that divided applause
never spoken.
And fucking the fringe
was a choice never made.
Written by Jason Wright
November 4, 2017
I see him undressing
through counting of sheep.
I see him caressing
around where I sleep.
I breathe in his secret
as you play the game.
I witness my weakness
for lust laced with shame.
This dream leaves me broken
though roused when it beckons.
I dream of these moments
more often than seconds.
Written by Jason Wright
November 4, 2017
Hearing disappointment which matches
THE SICKNESS INSIDE ME
threatening to overtake me.
Breathe.
The train is already departing one six eight;
perhaps this panic is for nothing?
Why do the only loud people
in the car gravitate toward me?
Hungry. Terrified and hungry.
Some things never change…
but I can.
Relax. Breathe.
He cannot hurt me here.
She is safe.
And I will eat before long.
If the show has begun
I will eat without fear
and rest,
knowing I’ve seen this particular show
three times before,
and I will be there for Aaron
without compromising
sanity or the denial of self.
If I make it there in time I will be
collected and calm. I will take in
this special show with
no need of regret
for I have controlled my fear
and done my best to travel
especially on the
fucked up weekend transit.
Now relax. Breathe / Ground,
and be the Jason that you want to be.
Written by Jason Wright
October 29, 2017
He’s uniquely shaped
like a patchwork of flesh…
Like Frankenstein’s monster
and love coalesced…
With a talent so bare
and a mood so enlightening,
A mixture so rare
that his beauty is frightening.
An eyes glazed insurgent
who’s wanted and lost…
With lazy gaze urgent;
still haunted by cost…
Who writes and performs
on a stage made of pain…
The ache in his eyes
borders on the insane.
And his music jingled
by others was lovely…
Though form never mingled;
if so it was roughly…
In show strung together;
so blissfully jumbled…
The best of intentions
by those that he’s humbled…
His powerful art
in a story so sparse…
Less than the sum
of it’s excellent parts.
Written by Jason Wright
October 25, 2017
For Ryan
These rambling skeletal nothings
prepare a Shakespeare on the Rocks
that will put you to sleep
faster than arsenic, absinthe, abstinence or Nyquil.
These holes where people once stood
are empty by choice:
“It makes for a better tango partner.” she twitters
as she looks at your palm,
smashes a fortune cookie
and calls it psychoanalysis.
These prickly amusements
are friendly Goddess daughters
when we smile and laugh and congratulate,
but let your drowsy mind betray the truth
and see them bare their fangs
to rip your throated poetry to shreds.
Unless of course you’re doing something
which requires respect or silence…
because then they’ll be making
far too much noise to have noticed.
Written by Jason Wright
October 24, 2017
You feel younger
walking hand in hand
with new Christmas decorations
and ice cream fizzle;
turn the music up
but can’t block him out:
I might as well be at home…
this isn’t bad.
Keep it going.
(((((((SPIN)))))))
And out.
She is smiling
through raindrop curtain of music
like drug song.
“Drugs are quick.”
He is gay, young, not my type (w/ extra E),
but I support his artistry
singing in my ears on the train;
this Aaron reading Trek…
“Leave”
with sudden stop in crowded car.
“Driving me wild”
with sadness tremble of wanting
but not quite having.
Taste of man sitting next to me.
Fantasy haunts us.
He knows my thoughts (cuckold mind-meld):
a brave fool to play this game.
End this
to collapse into memory song
of stranger friend…
“No One Knows How It Will End.”
Movie quotes are an invasive comfort
and lonely with no one to recognize them.
Kiss him. Kiss him.
Let him recognize me.
Written by Jason Wright
October 23, 2017
Washed out yesterday
feels distant as dreams
this morning of desperate
deceptive rape confessions.
Did loving / fearing them
make all the difference?
If so, I should
swallow all of
their sorrowful shame
to wake so
inspired and spritely.
Written by Jason Wright
September 30, 2017
Flash on subway
shooting by green / blue couple
and I know that moment
from years before – – is that me?
Is that watercolor smear
a glimpse of my past?
But I don’t know him
and I never looked like the other guy.
Smashing Pumpkins want to stand inside my love.
People have told me I look like Billy Corgan.
Might as well say I look like Humpty Dumpty.
I couldn’t ever be put together that way…
even if all the queen’s studs rode me
for 16 hours straight.
You, sitting next to me:
KEEP READING WHAT I WRITE!
IT AMUSES ME. 🙂
Other song was used
in video of my making,
much to the outrage of a certain Boy in Orange…
I don’t even know the title and it’s on my fucking playlist.
I’d had a nightmare about concentration camps
with this for a soundtrack,
and I don’t even remember that dream anymore
so the song is free to be itself at last.
Drunk trans woman laughs at what I write;
you are no mystery to me and you need not
scream at the others, begging to be fisted.
Nice to meet you Billie. (I transcribe)
Do you only love yourself
when you drink?
Written by Jason Wright
September 27, 2017
Four of us there;
though it’s hard to believe:
Bald Jason, Paul
and Darla and Steve.
The latter I stripped
in Ann Arbor fountain
before baring flesh
pressing into his bottom;
concealing our pact
(which they labeled obscene)
and that this healing act
had in fact made us clean.
The nerve that in public
made time seem to end:
Perving the lovesick
with crime through the lense
of twenty-one years
flashing by in a blur…
The party that wasn’t
for the people we were.
A moment of lust
that had built beyond reason,
Momentous trust
in the shadow of treason,
A moment of courage
acknowledged and shared,
Encouraged by touch
though we weren’t prepared
for the judgment of strangers
and friends left outside,
as we puzzled through riddles
with longing our guide,
But licentious struggles
are seldom rewarded,
For all our successes
we may have been thwarted…
For the world gazed in fear
as if love were contagious…
Our fumbled premiere
saw us stumble toward greatness.
Written by Jason Wright
September 20, 2017
When I met him,
a prisoner’s attempt to break free.
My relationship.
His deniability.
He was so forward the night we met.
Terrifying.
Couldn’t see he was teetering on the brink
just to kiss me.
For Josh –
Who’s kiss I’ll never forget,
who’s random phone calls haunt me to this day
and who still has plenty of magic
(even if “The Magician” doesn’t recognize it as such).
I scrawled this in my notebook on the train sometime last week and just got around to transcribing it here. I hope it finds you well.
