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
I smell his impulse
from a half day away.
The hint of a riddle
in the half light of pain.
The soft siren song
that tempts me with silence.
The voice of the child
bereft of my guidance.
I see what is hidden
as I feel what he fears.
We share the forbidden
truth shed in our tears.
We are each other
in flesh father carved.
This child is me
and I won’t let him starve.
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
Seeing these men
who never find themselves,
save in these sacred gay spaces,
who often actually lose themselves
in the overwhelming tide of acceptance…
That story, often read, was never truly mine;
a disconnect, which likely saved my life…
but perhaps, although I did the smartest things,
memorizing all of the rules
to this deathly game of life…
perhaps after all that I’ve done (or not)
I simply have survivor’s guilt?
I found my Fire Island / Castro,
found my Stonewall / found my Eagle,
found my Saugatuck and Folsom,
found my Pride in my reflection.
In the after wrath of AIDS
amidst the slaughter of my peers.
In the aftermath crusades
I came of age and faced my fears.
A generation’s gurney
closure fighting to be free.
A journey overwriting
what my story yearned to be.
Free to live a lonely man;
this glut tricked out obsession.
Free to be the homo man;
the slut without protection.
Free to be the ones in hell
about to hearse to college.
Free to be the ones who fell
without the curse of knowledge.
Free to pluck the pain from hearts
of seedy sly arrivals.
Free to fuck the pain apart
with no need for survival.
Written by Jason Wright
July 24, 2018
After night of
angry exhausted questions…
Loaded with
doubt / jealousy / rejections…
Expressing the pain
and the pleasure we feel…
My bitch of a stomach
could not seal the deal.
Tears fall from eyes
I’ve rinsed and repeatedly
cleaned as I’ve organized
words that defeated
and tore me asunder
like peace disappeared
with the heat of the summer
and ice of my fears
with soul crushing weight
of tears from my lover:
We all know the heart is the loneliest hunter.
I’m so very tired
and I’ve hated this night…
But my symptoms are clear
and I know what is right.
I hurt him with thoughts
that he never guessed.
Jealous reminder
of that man undressed.
Devouring fear
that seldom ignores me,
As Aaron convinces…
As Aaron implores me
to live my own life
in spite of my sickness.
My life of death
undone by our quickness.
Tonight illness won
and I know deep regret.
Time to wake up
and I haven’t slept yet.
Written by Jason Wright
July 21, 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
Distance demeans us
for now fourteen days,
Distance between us
obscene with clichés,
The grace gleaned atonement
as our love is scoured
in space between moments,
minutes and hours.
The senseless deceit;
seduction perverted,
Less than complete
destruction averted,
Obsessed as I seek
prince burned by charade,
Less than a week
since I learned he betrayed.
From dreams bleak
come night scares;
enshrouding the outcome,
Two weeks from nightmare
I strive to arouse from…
Two weeks resorting
to doubt, lies and whimpers,
Two weeks to sort out
the dream signs and whispers,
Two weeks derided
by sickness and penis,
Two weeks divided
by distance between us.
Written by Jason Wright
July 20, 2018
For Aaron & Brian,
2 weeks to the day.
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
July says goodbye
heading east into August…
The truth is a lie
or at least it’s not honest…
For “the truth” is deceptive;
the term’s a mirage
which no contraceptive
confirms with applause.
Your secret is known
and your lies are the truth…
Turning flesh into stone
despised by my youth.
Written by Jason Wright
July 15, 2018