Sirens

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

I Saw Sparks

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

Busy

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

Jennifer’s Birthday

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

The Aarons

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.

Like Cats & Dogs

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

Me & Bill & Ben & Steve

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

Sexy Traitor

I instruct him
in destruction;
in my need for his seduction…

And he rises
to occasion;
nearly late from masturbation…

I run for trains with courage found,
Express train travel:
Brooklyn bound…

I feel ill from my confusion,
Sex drenched ultimate illusion,
Might cost more than just my soul:

Excess lust within control.

Written by Jason Wright
July 26, 17

Weekend Friends

Various sentences
rise through the mist,

Queries for Romeos
found in our midst,

Did they know when they met me
I didn’t exist?

Perhaps they have doubted
yet doubts were dismissed?

To be fair
my partner in crime
is pretend,

Oh he’s quite real to me
and of that I contend,

But they don’t see the truth
in the lies that we send,

Try not to smile…
Must not reveal guile…

We are only unreal
to our weak weekend friends.

Written by Jason Wright
July 26, 2017

July of December

Nothing to write but I feel like it’s coming.
Waves are still crashing. Heart is still humming.
Jumping through hoops to receive your bouquet…
The truth was delivered on Brian’s first day.

Brian was there in two-thousand winter.
First month of year pierced heart like a splinter
which remains there today; his birthday remembered:
January dream in July of December.

There was snow where he touched me.
Brian, scared that he loved me.
Brian stared. Brian cared as I woke with a fright.
And there in the shade of the dream where we made love
he carried and married me all through the night.

Seven-teen years and I still feel those kisses
though we never have visits; explicit or shamed.

And I never accepted he’d been resurrected
for in death I was blessed while in life only blamed.

Written by Jason Wright
July 26, 2017

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