I wake in that dream
with your glare there beside me.
I take in that cream
with a fifth deep inside me.
Our translucent grind
has a mind all it’s own.
Our movement is timed
to the grime in our bones.
Our union and flow
erects no objections.
Communion is slow
but perfects our erections.
We vibe one another
and cleave to sensation.
Describe someone other;
believe penetration.
Believe in the truth
of the lies of this action.
Achieve what in youth
was denied satisfaction.
You’re glazed in the bleeding
of sugar and spice.
I haze in the dreaming
and make you feel nice.
I scream in delight
as I ache to premiere you.
I dream this tonight
and wake to be near you.
Written by Jason Wright
May 31, 2018
Hollow Promises
You sing through my brain
and I write at your mercy…
You cling to my pain
and allight controversy…
You seem so alive
yet are likely a ghost…
A dream to deprive me
precisely; a most
diaphanous shred
of something denied me…
Blasphemous bed
with nothing inside me…
In grinding charades
I observe nothing squalid…
Been dining on shades
but deserve something solid.
Written by Jason Wright
May 30, 2018
Everybody Wants
We know your perfection
is merely a myth…
We know your infection
is hard to resist…
We know seacoast loving
reflects in your eyes…
We know almost nothing
except your goodbyes…
We know you persist
but can’t make that call…
We know you exist
but don’t know you at all.
Written by Jason Wright
May 30, 2018
Invisible Men
Nakedness frenzy
which we cannot meet…
Making us envy
rich men caught in street…
Biblical femmes
in temperatures low…
“Invisible men
in the emperor’s clothes…”
Amuse themselves slightly
while tithing the heartless…
And lose themselves nightly
while writhing in darkness.
Written by Jason Wright
May 30, 2018
STARVED
I’m one half of a couple
laying one side of a bed…
should I cry or laugh or cuddle?
I can’t escape my dread
city
country
heat & frost
& contradictions keep
me hungry and exhausted
but I cannot eat or sleep
you haunt me
without equal
as I thunder
through our hallways
I want you
resting peaceful
yet I hunger
for you always.
Written by Jason Wright
May 26, 2018
For Aaron & Little Jason
Reflection
Your music makes me sad
like an echo from the past…
You were queer
and in my dreams
you were here
beyond extremes…
At least my memory means
that our encounters always last.
You ghosted through my city
like I wasn’t even here,
like you’re gone but you are always
somehow more than what I fear.
You hosted my obsessions
and inspire even more,
and I am just the sum
of what our passions wrought before.
Written by Jason Wright
May 20, 2018
Our Time in the Desert
There was a boy…
There was a summer boy
who had us call him Sebastian…
and though this name fit him perfectly,
I was never quite convinced
that this is what his unseen
unknown parents had christened him.
He had traveled cross country
to visit a friend of mine
whom he had never met
or seen face to face.
The friend and I were only ever friends in name only
because our friends were friends with one another…
but we never once connected without the others…
and if he was blind to what was actually happening,
well, I wasn’t going to cross a line
or clue him in;
not when he’d often been as cruel
as the summer wind which
drew us out together that long ago
summertime evening.
Summer boy Sebastian
from exotic southern state
had beautiful teeth
and a slight but sexy drawl
to all his decidedly decadent
turns of phrase
which spoke of unvoiced attraction.
We never acknowledged this aloud
but it was an understanding
between us,
like we were the couple
and everyone else had tagged along with us
for the voyeuristic fun of it all.
Hot, sticky Michigan summer night –
the kind of night that usually drove us
to backwoods skinny dipping pond,
instead lead us to old haunted
devil worshipping sorority house,
near the fancy two-story McDonald’s
where Anthony used to give me free fries…
where we collected on the asphalt
like mardi gras gutter trash
as we exchanged stories…
as Sebastian subtly signaled,
slyly suggested and studied my every glance
with a scholar’s dedicated devotion.
Later, after pink moon drives
with mosquito infested breezes
I saw snow fall in the sweltering desert
which he had finally gifted me with,
ice crystals catching on eyelashes
and melting on our lips
as we said our final goodnight.
I never saw him again.
But he never slept with our companions either…
He waited until the coast was clear
and then fled the scene
before any of us knew
what the night had taken from us…
leaving us as haunted and questioning
as the abandoned and seemingly evil sorority house.
But those moments before abandonment
are always remembered with a sad sort of smile
when I stumble across the miracle he gave me
when he must have known our time
had finally come to an end.
Written by Jason Wright
April 30, 2018
Mary Poppers
In disco dreams of the demimonde
Harry Potter’s ruthless offspring
offers me some of his poppers,
but I tell him
I enjoy my visions far too much
and anyways, I’ve never needed drugs
to enjoy being penetrated
by words, thoughts or horny
black medical technicians named Robert.
He tells me that I don’t know
what I’m missing
before he shrugs and hoovers
the proffered merchandise,
riding away on his boyfriend’s
upturned open relationship broomstick.
I push through a crowd of 70’s queens,
fruity fudge packers and ambidextrous wank masters
who’ve all chosen to inhale deeply but are undone
by their vigorous Viagra consumption…
They may all have fairy wings
but they’re dropping like flies.
Anxious about anxiety
and tempted by temptation
I ramble back to reality
by way of Central Park’s Tavern on the Green,
which ex-boyfriend swore had been positively decimated…
And just like that,
I realize that realization is as real
as all I now see…
And I find my mind has left behind the grind:
I’m fine as fine can be.
Written by Jason Wright
April 30, 2018
For Joe L & Michael E:
practically perfect in all of my dreams.
The Whale Trilogy
1
Pain radiates
through smoothly shaven flesh,
Unseen skull
in burning wrapping paper,
I skitter to share
what it seeks to prevent…
The years are a bitch
and I ache to betray her…
For words in this gloaming
are enabled by night…
Even when tinged
with the heartbreak of sorrow…
Thoughts freely roaming
until morning sight…
Might seem unhinged
come the light of tomorrow.
2
There was a morning, a day, a hot afternoon
where I thought my life would change…
where my wandering
had finally altered my direction…
but it wasn’t meant to be.
Perhaps every day is like this for others…
but the day I am thinking of,
the day of sex before the sermon,
I believed that I’d finally arrived
somewhere I was meant to be,
only to learn across the years
that I would seldom ever return,
and I wish I would have known
how special that time was,
how precious those moments.
It’s altogether different
yet somehow the same
when watching you
watching whales…
when the music you share
nearly kills me with it’s mournful beauty –
giving me fever chills and death spasms
before my fever breaks
and I’m allowed to dance
in the trance of our shoegazing
dream pop.
In the fever
all that could comfort me
was the seemingly old
but younger woman
with the ghost on the porch…
An echo of that first reading
joining my pain across two different eras.
3
The first would have been discovery,
and on the very brink of puberty
as I stumbled through that sea of trees
to find a validating fiction.
And now the feeling: brotherly,
yet still cherry stink of nudity
as I’m humbled by our deities
to bind an animated friction.
And the proof
it is not fair
but the truth
is he’s out there
begging for money,
trading sex for drugs hungry
while the whales circle round us
tasting sweetly table scraps.
And the lie
if there is one
is that life
is a shotgun
because life hasn’t drowned us
baby please don’t go like that.
Written by Jason Wright
April 19, 2018
For Sean (Mobley) and Steve and Anthony.
Cetacean Sadness
Our shared experiences in the past
seem to mean nothing to those reflected
in the world’s window screen.
I watch them all
hoping for recognition / reconnection
while sister hurts and Sean struggles.
Steve is happy listening to sad songs
which make me weep.
I want to tag myself in a million posts
in every place I’ve ever gone.
Fuck this song.
Fuck this.
Life changes us
and you’re a stranger that I once knew
or at least I thought I did.
I have pictures but they don’t seem to matter;
they don’t seem nearly as real as yours.
I tell you the secret in the past
but you are blind.
I dive for real love
at the beach house
with men that I trust
while Lauren Moloko Hatchie St Vincent
(actor out of work in the radio Dept.)
decides the time is now
to try to speak your true name
amidst disarray antidotes,
preoccupations with daysleepers
and their creation…
and now the meaningful
nonsensical rhyming must begin
as we fade away to nothing important:
I get a little blue
as I listen to your tunes
as I Facebook stalk your trek
across the place I never knew…
And Sean is turning tricks
paying rent by sucking dicks,
and nothing really matters
if our lives are candle wicks.
But I want to visit woman
with the ghost out on the porch…
want to live my life again
when I am out of sorts….
want to read of witches
as my fever threatens soul…
Your aura ghost echo
(lost orca in ghetto)
and only espresso
can make us both whole.
Written by Jason Wright
April 19, 2018