BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
A Work in Progress…Welcome Back!
Everyone is naked.
Everyone is nude.
Under cover.
Under clothing.
Under censorship’s
well-meaning-ever-
watchful eye…
Big Brother insists.
And so
everyone stares.
We all are complicit.
If only we shared
what’s mislabeled illicit.
We all need to care
and we must not dismiss it…
We enter this world
and are labeled explicit.
Written by Jason Wright
January 24, 2019
I try to conspire
to knock your socks off,
I lie to liars
to get our rocks off,
They think I’m not strong
but I’m really a freak,
I prey on the wrong
who savage the weak,
I ravage the monsters
within my deception,
They feed my hunger
for pain and erections.
Written by Jason Wright
January 23, 2019
Walking into the cold city darkness
in my not-unpleasant,
whiskey warm stumble
toward Claritin-D
and embryonic friendship
with stunning young man
who unknowingly rips me in half
with answers I don’t have
concerning my partner’s state of mind.
The truth is
there’s been almost no time
to enquire
in new scheduled madness…
but the truth has
never felt more like a lame excuse.
On the way back to gay sports bar,
after kindness in complimentary
never-ending hallway
with the book that apparently nobody wants or needs,
we again stumble into unknown territory
on another subject I feel I should better grasp
as it borders on both
experience and uncensored friendships
which have somehow (again)
left me lacking coherence or apparent depth
upon current recollection…
Yet I must question if these memories
are accurate or merely rambled here
for dramatic effect,
for an audience who demands that I write
but refuses to listen.
The real truth,
the more appropriately honest
fortune cookie wisdom
crunches open
beneath Poetry Table instructions
for impromptu musings…
When all I’m thinking about
are new people
weaving in and out of my experience
which dangle here in disarray
to be encompassed later
in organized impressions.
Written by Jason Wright
January 17, 2019
In my dream
we were traveling in a car
though I can’t remember which
one of us was driving.
I was telling you that this rift
between us
was meaningless;
that the times we spent
in bed together
were unimportant now;
it was lovely and fun
but that’s all it was for me;
we needn’t be so distant
to prevent us from falling
into old patterns.
You told me that I was wrong and that
ALL of those times ((((MATTERED)))).
In a near whisper: “They mattered a lot.”
It didn’t hurt you that I was unaware,
but you were explaining that your wife
knew how much it mattered to you…
and this is why we seldom cross paths;
this is how the rift began.
And though the past did not hurt me,
it was clear that the past had slowly
poisoned our present.
And our seemingly casual lovemaking
had casualties that I had not been aware of.
Written by Jason Wright
December 15, 2018
For Patrick
The man dressed in androgynous white
looked like he couldn’t possibly be there,
but he was.
David Lynch Twin Peaks Mutherfucker…
The kind of thing
that Mollie sees
and my father describes
when he’s not on his meds.
No one else seemed to notice.
Perhaps he was a ghost
like that eerie bride and groom
wedding march through muddy springtime
cornfield of my youth.
Written By Jason Wright
December 13, 2018
Bleeding and breathing and moving
to accommodate secret meeting of strangers
who are smart enough to avoid
hospital television ramblings
I block out with Endgame trailer music.
I’ve never seen an experienced barista
struggle so much with what was right in front of them – –
the instructions are right there on the side of the SHORT cup
but she removes them to apply them to a TALL
before being told politely that it’s meant to be short –
as she then awkwardly corrects that bizarre error
and then proceeds to get everything else wrong –
which I will not allow.
I paid $4.00 for that
so please fill it to the top
like I asked.
Thank you so much!
Waiting room madness continues
as we’re all pressed into service
for mysterious summons
whose purpose, when inquired
is refused by staff
who ask that we cease to congregate
near the windows…
What are they hiding from us?
Not long before two police arrive,
and then two more…
and then Anna asks me into her office
so we miss the exciting conclusion.
With procedural horror drama behind us
we fall into productive discussions
of PTSD, hot urologists,
respectful penis inspectors,
family dinners and reinforcement –
positive vs. negative –
bleeding and breathing and moving
to accommodate my future integration.
When I reach the ground floor lobby,
the fantastic woman named after an
ancient female vampire asks me for my details
and we witness man being seen to
by a horde of police men
surrounding an ambulance.
Some people need more attention than others.
Written by Jason Wright
December 11, 2018
Strike the match.
Strike that.
Strike up the band
and burn us to the ground.
Listen to nothing.
Listen to no one.
The deaf,
moved by deepest vibrations,
rise up to meet us
betwixt silence and cacophony;
teaching us how to feel
and interpret the words
they can’t hear
but feel with a depth
which we sometimes lack.
We are blind
and struggle –
reaching out to recognize
the face of reality –
the face of the universe –
inverse infinity –
infinite perversions of intended design.
Revelation yearned for
is as momentous as imagined…
if only for moments
which we believe were imaginary.
Written by Jason Wright
November 29, 2018
The boredom of youth
relieved by seduction –
no love or lust;
just blissful destruction –
just practice;
no hardship;
no need for regret –
just beautiful lips
of boys he’ll forget.
Beautiful boys
together in boredom –
the time of their lives
in self enslaved whoredom –
beautiful boys
who’ll one day be men –
who dreamed they were toys
when they would be again.
Written by Jason Wright
November 29, 2018
I have the sickness.
I have to express.
I have the thickness.
I have to confess.
I have the wetness.
I have the shame.
I have been sexless.
I have been stained.
I have been tested.
I’ve been observed.
I’ve been suggested.
I have been heard.
I have been labeled
as purely obscene.
I am disabled
by being unseen.
Written by Jason Wright
November 21, 2018
Regimes bathed in scarlet
ceremony behavior.
In dreams lathed and starlit:
my loneliness savior.
In creams craved by artist
named only betrayer.
Yet I am the harlot
and he only player.
Condition is chalky;
deplores the reboot…
For position we jockey;
he scores and I shoot…
I launch at my folly;
I stream with no joy…
I relaunch and volley;
I scream for the boy.
The stream precedes chasm;
the target is painted…
The dream seeds orgasm
and harlot is tainted.
The player has won
as my body is cheated…
Two halves made one…
disembodied…
depleted.
Written by Jason Wright
November 20, 2018