BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
A Work in Progress…Welcome Back!
LOOK IN MY EYES
AND KNOW YOURSELF.
YOU SHOOK THE SKIES
WITH WHAT YOU FELT.
FOR YOU ARE ALIVE
AND YOU BELONG.
YOU SURVIVED
BECAUSE YOU’RE STRONG.
AND YOU SUBVERT
WHAT CAME BEFORE.
SO HE CAN’T HURT
YOU ANYMORE.
Written by Jason Wright
August 18, 2026
For Katie and for Little Jason.
When we met
you set on fire
as you kissed me
from above.
When we met
you were a liar
and convinced me
of your love.
When I slept
with that imposter
he was always
underhand.
When we met
you were a monster
but I didn’t
understand.
I couldn’t see
the truth
inside deceptive
aching flame.
You couldn’t keep
the proof
of my perspective
from your shame.
A shame
that only blizzards slayed
me tragic
in your eyes.
Like a game
that only wizards play
your magic
was a lie.
I don’t regret
the level
where you spurned me
with your spell.
When we met
you were the devil
and you burned me
with your Hell.
The fire
left its mark
and I’m now
forever changed.
And required
hefty spark
has left me now
deranged.
For now
I understand
but I’m haunted
by the squandered.
For now
you are a man
but I only want
the monster.
Written by Jason Wright
August 8, 2026
Before I had grown
and had moved far away.
If I could have known
what you never would say.
I could have watched
and seen all the signs.
Could have hopscotched
and made all the rhymes.
If I knew in youth
that you’d always desert me.
If I knew the truth
then it would not have hurt me.
I would have had fun
and would always be yours.
And I could have cum
more than all of your whores.
Written by Jason Wright
August 9, 2026
The divisional shadows
of the math we inspire;
derision of prose
by the wrath of desire
has led me astray
like a pawn to your laughter:
send me away
at the dawn of disaster.
Cock crows the call of
this glamor forbidden,
the clock on the wall
is a camera I’ve hidden,
and sight swarms the notion
of friendly portrayal
as light forms the motion
intent on betrayal.
My eyes disappear
as my brain overloads.
Beneath chandelier
I feel drained and exposed.
The world starts to shimmer;
I head to the gallows…
As glimmer of hope
is divided by shadows.
Written by Jason Wright
August 9, 2026
Inspired by a particularly kinky dream I had. It’s also an expanded fragment which began when I started typing words onto a collage for this site:
What I want
on BIRTH / DAY
is to see you undone.
To find worth in fray…
To be there when you cum.
Spending our pleasure
in treasured foul play.
The unending show of
pretending to stray.
In opera of trust
to be played by the playful…
The opera of lust
left us splayed and unfaithful.
These schemes of seduction;
a librettist’s triad…
My dreams of destruction
are the wettest I’ve had.
And as we conspire:
breathless / delusional.
Things I desire:
senselessly usual.
I am your boy
when the handsome and beautiful
leave me destroyed
when you are unsuitable.
Always pretending
to be my sad savior.
A catechist’s cream
is just as astrictory.
Always depending
on their bad behavior…
The masochist’s dream
is so contradictory.
Written by Jason Wright
August 8, 2026
A few years before
our friend lay down dead,
You said I was handsome…
or that’s what she’d said,
That’s all I remembered
and I could not fathom
why boy I remembered
would think I was handsome.
But when I looked back
she’d said quite a lot…
She spoke of my family
and what you had thought,
But I didn’t ask
for more at the time
so I’m left in the dark
of remarks about crimes.
Written by Jason Wright
August 7, 2026
When I was just 17
I fell for his pain.
He was different from me
and yet we were the same.
There between walls
and hospital beds…
There where we said
all the things left unsaid.
All but the truth
of the love that I felt.
But I know that he knew it;
he told me himself.
He signed it in ink
on a board for goodbyes
as we crossed the brink
to begin our own lives.
I thought he was gone;
though in dreams he was near.
“We must love our loved ones
while we have them here.”
And I swooned
as I grieved
and then one day I healed…
Before the wound
cleaved me in two
and revealed…
That he was alive;
it was I who had died.
And all that I’d felt
was because of a lie.
Written by Jason Wright
July 24, 2026
For Brian – on his 50th birthday.
I finally break ground
on what he never heard.
I finally break down
as I listen to her
designedly drowned
in dimes and volkswagens…
I finally get down
In (these) Times of Dragons.
I’ve kissed and I’ve thought
of the old wrongs renewed…
I’ve listened a lot
to the old songs he knew…
We SPARK to prolong
what will never appear…
It’s dark to hear songs
that he won’t ever hear.
Written by Jason Wright
May 7, 2026
For Sean – who would have loved the new Tori Amos album.
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I listened to the new songs 6 days after the release of “In Times of Dragons” and I thought I was fine, but then I thought of Sean never getting to hear this and I wept in the shower. Aaron noticed I was sad but I was tired and unable to talk about it. I’ll explain it later. If I could give Sean this album I would. But I can’t, and that hurts. – Jason
1
Disparaged Gilgamesh
forsakes the raging scars of scorn.
As marriage of the flesh
takes the stage and we are born.
Archived in the symbol’s light
that mends us when we’re broken.
Our lives are but a single night
that ends before we’ve woken.
A night of savage
strain
that’s part discomfort;
part despair.
A right of passage
(PAIN)
that’s hard to comfort
without prayer.
But the tributes that they spoke
were only lies about the queers.
Distributing the woke
with open eyes to shed their tears.
2
They prayed to feed the hunger –
wasn’t heard in all the chatter.
They say that I look younger
but it doesn’t really matter.
I’m older than I was
and I will be ’till I’m dead.
A bolder man because
I still believe in what was said.
The fairytales and prayers
are pretty stories
as we age…
The marriage failed –
affairs are pitied glories
on the stage…
And the words we speak…
the lies enmeshed in flesh are all but finished.
We fade away to seek
the guise of Gilgamesh diminished.
Written By Jason Wright
April 25, 2026
As I write now, I think I may start taking notes of what I was thinking about when I wrote because I’m uploading many poems from my archives and many of them don’t say what they’re about, and having written thousands of them, over several decades, I don’t always remember what I was thinking or feeling. I also often dedicated a poem to someone and only wrote their first names, and I often can’t remember who this or that person was, so I’m probably going to put that in context moving forward.
As for this piece, I was thinking about how people often tell me that I look younger than I am, which is nice, but I let it fool me for awhile, that because I looked younger, then I actually was younger. But I’m not. I’m still as old as I am. And assuming there are no issues with my health or an accident or whatever, I’m still that much closer to dying. Bodies only last for so long. And as I wrote that down I started thinking about religion, myth, prayer, how homophobia pushes many people away from religion, and how for a time I had really horrible night terrors having to do with imagining death – both my own and / or Aaron’s. I’ve worked on the latter and while I expect it will possibly crop up again, it doesn’t haunt me quite as much as it once did. The title is a veiled reference to the diminishment of Gilgamesh, via Galadriel in the Lord or the Rings: “I pass the test. I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel.”
I was just Twenty-Six
(October 2000)
when I met a man
(though I still dream about him)
and now nearly double
I read what was written
when he seemed like trouble
and wholly forbidden.
I was just Twenty-Six
(November 2000)
when I lost that man
(but still wrote about him)
we read of vampires;
that’s what I named us;
thirst for the shameless
and cursed by our lust.
And in then ninety-nine,
one year before,
the best Pet Shop Boys
had also explored…
I didn’t remember
or I didn’t care
that vampire boys
already compared
to men doing things
to men in the dark,
he tasted my blood
and then stole my heart.
On November 8 of 2026
I will be fifty-two
and remember the kiss;
remember the blood,
the cum and the piss
shared with a man when I was twenty-six.
On November 8 of 2026
I will be fifty-two…
The B-52s?
I will be fifty-two…
twenty-six times two.
Written by Jason Wright
March 21, 2026