BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
A Work in Progress…Welcome Back!
His scruffy messages
shock and blindside me,
Anger
Betrayal
and his cock inside me,
Still makes me cum harder
than bland romance…
Passionate game played out
through this dance
we tango together:
discover and spark…
We reach for the light
as we dance in the dark.
Written by Jason Wright
August 29, 2017
Jamie Goodbye
with card and with journal,
Nothing worth having
is ever eternal,
We don’t last forever
but use what we’re given,
We strive to live life –
to connect and to listen,
This chapter ends
yet we’re not diminished,
Our stories continue;
our lives are not finished.
Written by Jason Wright
August 24, 2017
Every age is like a different flavor.
The changes in texture can be delicate or pernicious;
at every annual increment there comes a blending,
a harmony of vintage soul and cutting edge splendor,
shades of winter chills and sprays of summer sunsets.
Some years stay with us longer than others
and can be overpowering,
melding lilting notes ferocious and graceful,
deadly and dominating.
Others are so stealthy and discreet
as to seem completely illusory.
I ponder such things
as the librarian unbuttons my shirt again.
Clark Kent tells me I’m cute and smart while I blush,
imagining the taste of his 31 year old Kryptonian asshole,
which will germinate once again one month from yesterday.
Every gesture, hint of desire, every longing whisper
is patterned on a needlessly shameful lust,
disguising an eroticized guilt
that all beasts, alien or otherwise
must one day come to endure.
Need as aphrodisiac.
Weakness presented as strength.
A world of the senses where nothing makes sense
and all answers are contradictory.
The kissing is subtle,
blurred water color shimmer
of thoughts and sensations.
I suspect I will only ever be his friend,
despite our movements to the contrary;
I overcomplicate things, you see?
People in relationships are threatened by complexity.
Keep things simple. Keep sex simple.
Only sex is never simple for me and never has been.
I can pretend that it is.
I can say that it is.
But I must be more than a trick to access such depths.
It has been ages since I even attempted to reach such profundity
without conversation, connection, correlation…
Yet even I know this pleasure is simple, while
all that writhes beneath and behind
is exceedingly complicated.
I’ve just never been good at wearing masks.
Aaron would understand this, I think. He knows me,
yes, but he would connect with my questions
because he now asks them himself.
Zsolt was anything but simple,
and yet he was simple all the same.
A brave, defiant act that I can both admire and detest, encourage and deny;
I feel for that man. Under different circumstances, a change of location,
I likely wouldn’t have been nearly so troubled.
Animals howling in the night.
Lonely, reassuring, reclaiming their places by the fire.
The geography of sex,
the distance between two hearts
in the aftermath of such a journey,
is a mathematical equation
revealing how much I will hurt…
which is seemingly diametrically opposite
of what others seem to achieve or experience.
“Are you okay?”
he asks me 12,000 times.
I ask him about Lois Lane
and I listen to his smile about Grindr,
his love for their home in Boystown,
and I know that he loves her.
I let him know
I’m not having sex with him tonight.
It’s not because of Lois. Well it is. But’s it’s not.
It’s not even because of Aaron,
who has said that I’m allowed
to sleep with any superhero of my choosing.
It’s really just because of my need for,
and love of, complication.
I never want to be just a trick.
The librarian
with the interestingly spelled middle name
who has complimented me
on my seemingly youthful features
and the size of my photographed cock
walks with me to the Metropolis subway,
begs me to text him all night,
and sings me to slumber
beneath poetry scrawls
in my stoned drunken handwriting.
Written by Jason Wright
August 19, 2017
For Kevin
Tonight
after haunted days of painful painlessness
a siege of sirens comes
to serenade, seduce and succor…
to simplify…
to supply me with solace
as I drown
beneath waves of mutilation
(with apologies to Pixies).
My Aaron sings to me
his soothing tones
which are less like music;
more like verse…
strumming my ribcage
beneath salt water seas,
we swim naked for hours
through tears we’ve not shed.
The other Aaron,
the Aaron between us,
he haunts through
photograph, text and memory,
echoing across time and geography
to be one with us again.
There are naked hungry men
beneath those shadowed depths,
those sombre shades of green
lit by melancholy movie soundtracks.
The mermen dive for pleasure
and breathe truthfully through gilled
fantasy lies which excite and entice me
before dragging me down to my death.
In amber and glow,
through fogged glass of sunken ships
she is weeping her mermaid crocodile tears.
This is not truly Jamie;
this being is not my sister or my therapist.
The former doesn’t speak to me, even on land
and the latter will soon be lost to me –
just as I left her (unforgivably)
in the haste of my waking nightmare.
She will forgive me this unforgivable sin.
She is strong but she is wounded –
like me,
underwater –
like me,
and she will rise again –
like me.
Could this truly be her after all?
I smile and wave goodbye to her
but she can’t see me until Thursday.
Mermaid simulacrum smiles just the same…
but here my visions come to an end.
Written by Jason Wright
August 17, 2017
For Aaron Squared & Jamie Bloom
Men’s eyes can be laughing sparkle,
heavy lidded with hunger or stupor,
dead with rejection,
ghosted with tears,
shaded with guyliner,
or frosted with burning hatred.
All that matters is that they stare
if only momentarily
into my own.
That mind jolt penetrating to the core of inspiration.
That look a month ago –
with listen and spark,
sex and magic –
has yet to be replaced or forgotten.
There are waves
of imaginary men
rolling toward us
with intended potential excitement
but they seem empty,
devoid of spark.
Aaron squared was more
than a somewhat clever joke.
Expanded healing pleasure / honest friendship,
minus the fantasy lies
that fuel countless tear stained orgasms
with an intense burst
of impossible wet dream madness;
a bruising lust which stings
while it drives senses to extremes –
a Cenobite encounter
plagued by hardships
with luscious pleasures
yet to be realized,
yet to curse or release me
through a torturous curative of transformative sex.
My lover’s name twin is sweet
and tempts me with poli-normative affection…
he shames me with his goodness
in the shadowed eclipse of my darkest desires.
His double penetrations are pure spiritual retreats
which offer to halt my advance into the endless abyss
of my deviant sex drenched day dreams.
I still struggle toward the depths
but their darkness seems twice as blinding
after his personal brand of effervescent sparks.
Written by Jason Wright
August 9, 2017
In dreams we’re together
in all ways imagined…
A still life that’s painted
in all shades of passion…
When awake we are separate
and it’s not enough…
Unable to talk, to touch
or to fuck…
We share the same space
yet we aren’t complete…
And we cling to each other
at night when we sleep.
Written by Jason Wright
August 3, 2017
For Aaron
When I met her: CONNECTION
and desperate to know her,
Began with a dance
although I was unsure
that all that I wanted
was right or was natural…
It felt like the truth
but wasn’t quite factual,
It wasn’t quite candid
and yet it was honest,
Can’t be admonished
for loving a Goddess,
Not quite confusion;
more a puzzle unsolved,
Perhaps it was foolish
and should not be absolved,
Yet we were as children
in a world without structure,
Decades of growth
and change in our culture,
Time heals all wounds
and while we’ve matured…
Twenty-two years
and I’m still writing for her.
Written by Jason Wright
August 3, 2017
For Jennifer
Waiting an hour
for line to die down,
Waiting for queens
to swallow my crown,
Nervous awareness
of people beside me,
The Aarons are rude
and can’t be inside me,
The Aarons are restless
inside of my pants,
The Aarons are separate
in this circumstance,
Each Aaron’s schedule
is packed and excited,
Yet sadly their plans
may keep us divided.
Written by Jason Wright
July 31, 2017
For Aaron and Aaron.
Skipping by Nero
was never intended
Stripping my intro
from man I befriended
And he tried to change her
but she never loved him
I wanted to tell her
that she should not scold him
Wanted connection
when I could not hold him
But Nero was damaged
by lack of affection
His eyes held the world
bereft of direction
The world burned to ashes
infected by pain
And the last of his tears
were lost in the rain
Written by Jason Wright
July 27, 2017
Steve was a shadow
I swore not to touch.
A slip of a boy
with eyeliner smudged.
That he was forbidden
made him all the more tempting.
Catherine Wheel sang
while I was pretending
that I did not want him,
as if he was nothing…
When behind my closed eyes
we were constantly fucking.
Written by Jason Wright
July 27, 2017