BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
A Work in Progress…Welcome Back!
Waking from migraine nightmare
as waves crash on Fire Island sunset.
My eyes are blurred by unshed tears.
My cock is hard.
My boyfriend kisses the swelling flesh
before running to meet Essa.
After orgasm, shower and
multiple doubts & setbacks
I emerge feeling like I’ve awakened again;
eyes blurred by possibility.
Written by Jason Wright
June 14, 2017
I attempt to document
the immorality of Xanax
but the only evidence is a kooky fortune teller
who reads my chai tea leaves
and tells me I’m wasting my time.
I agree.
I think of him in California
on some app
naked and hunting
for affirmation of his desirability –
giving his attractiveness a score
equal to the number of dick pics he receives.
Will he thank them with blowjobs?
I don’t think he would cheat
but of course I never expect him to lie.
And why carry naked pictures
on a mobile device
if you don’t intend to share them?
I’ve seen things that I shouldn’t…
or should I have?
My inner I
is cloudy / wounded / bloody.
The red tears fall
and lubricate my way to the future.
Written by Jason Wright
May 25, 2017
He turns
looks into my hunger
and kisses deep into my longing.
“Aaron… You don’t have to…”
He abolishes my protestations
with the writhe of his lithe quenching desire.
The morning after and I am
UGLY / WOUNDED / ASHAMED
until he convinces me otherwise
with every touch, thrust, confession and truth (?).
Music sings me to joy
as I race beneath an ocean of asphalt
before my forgotten phoenix returns
to haunt, burn, perish and resurrect.
The “truth” is that all poets are fucked;
metaphorically or otherwise.
Written by Jason Wright
May 9, 2017
My asshole is liberal
and apparently terrifying.
In Chechnya, gay men like me are tortured
while I’m riding a bicycle for the first time in nine years.
I’m racing downtown
along the Hudson River….
just like Michigan childhood,
yet decidedly different,
feeling simultaneously young and very old;
muscles aching, blood pumping.
I have to eat soon and all of this must end.
Coffee in Lincoln Square? Lincoln Center? Lincoln somewhere.
Mingling with opera singers; this is my life now.
This, while those in Mother Russia
who survived the purge of A.I.D.S. have been incarcerated
by an astonishing ignorance,
in a war they can not hope to win.
We are not wayward heterosexuals.
We are born; not converted.
And it is those that hate and fear us so much
who are responsible for our creation.
The only FAGGOTS I’ve ever met were
conservative terrifying assholes.
Conservative or Liberal…
at least our assholes seem to match.
*with all due respect to Arthur Rimbaud.
Written by Jason Wright
April 11, 2017
Haunted night
is filled with fairy ghosts
of candles burnt
forty-three years
endless summer days
and countless aching seconds before they sang!
The ash of memory
collects / connects / coalesces
between a dreamed of future
and the year before my own birth.
Music plays,
dancers sway,
Listen now to what they have to say…
Feel the truth of an imagined confession.
Now you know that art is magic,
alive and tragic,
raving, righteous & tempestuous somehow…
that is what you know in the now
but back in the then
before the circuit could complete –
before you finished kiss so sweet –
the fire spread as coward fled.
Written by Jason Wright
March 16, 2017
For Max Vernon
Showering after sex
my mind is overcome
by thoughts, sensations, memories.
“Call Me by Your Name”
has reminded me of Rob –
the way he made a pass at me
when I was 17 –
the way I reacted
and the way I’ve often wished
I could change that moment –
erase it, rewrite it,
never experience that level of self loathing
born of inexperience…
that impression of what I lack.
Still…
kissing at church has to count for something.
My conversation with young relative returns;
how I tried to calm his fears
on Trump and AIDS and love and sex.
It only takes one time, you know?
A boy I knew who worked on Fire Island
died of an “infection” a few weeks ago –
life support turned off –
INFECTION
FIRE ISLAND
GAY
DEATH
The words that silently scream at me what I believe to be the cause
while everyone politely refuses to mention what has happened…
And the band continues to play on.
Men I’ve been inside of,
Men who’ve been inside of me
are positive.
Best friends,
Loved ones,
Infected but seldom mentioned
because an illness
is easily
the least interesting thing about them.
I think of Aaron and the tears he shed
and the words he said
and the progress he confirmed…
the wonderful weekends we’ve had.
I think about upcoming hearing while
trying not to face it with terror or worry
while the video they’re supposed to send me
has never arrived (three times).
But the shower must end
and scalding hot water must cease it’s spray.
And so I dry myself –
step back into the world
and I forget.
Written by Jason Wright
February 27, 2017
The Christmas tree is
the heart of the season,
and when I was a child
it filled me with reason,
to hope and to play
those holiday games;
sledding down hills
and chasing toy trains…
But at night I would creep
with my family asleep,
out to the tree
and I’d wish on that star…
And I never knew,
that my wish would come true,
but I knew when I met your son
outside that bar…
And then I met you
and I couldn’t have known,
the way that you’d change me
with the love that you’ve shown,
and I give you this symbol
of the gifts that you’ve given,
with it’s sweet Christmas spirit
and it’s packages hidden
by the wrappings you love,
that bright coded vestige,
But let me explain this
Christmas themed message.
Red is for love…
Blue means forever…
Green and Gold
for our times spent together,
With a star overhead
to show us the way,
and to always remind you
come each Christmas day,
of the lives that you’ve changed
with gifts that are tasteful,
the time that you give
which has never been wasteful,
the presents you share
while remaining so graceful…
May this Christmas gift
serve to show you I’m grateful,
for all that you’ve done
and all that you do…
And may all of your wishes
wished upon it
come true.
Written by Jason Wright
December 24, 2016
with much love: Merry Christmas Mary Ellen!
The pained expression
as he wrapped his arms
around his head,
as if to hide
from the words he knew he must say;
the risk he must take.
The tears that fell
from his beautiful eyes
as he confessed
that the heart of us had been lost.
The strength that I
had never possessed in the past,
unfamiliar as it surged to the fore…
Was it possible
that I had built a temple
out of my shattered childhood
only to have him ripped away from me?
The way we barely breathed
as we collapsed in random bursts of suffering,
exquisite,
aching pain of love gone wrong,
gone sour,
gone ignored too long
and now barely recognizable.
We lay together that night,
together,
yet cleaved in two.
Yet we never degraded,
never cursed,
never accused,
never,
never,
never completely surrendered to shame or fear.
This hardship,
this torment was honest
and brave,
and long overdue;
I know that now
and I thank him
even as I yearn for my other half.
For 10 days
and 11 nights
I have fought for
the mere hope,
the slightest chance
that a lost romance might be resurrected.
I don’t want to be crushed
by the loss of him
or bereft of his touch.
I fight for my own survival
with lessons that may save me,
yet beyond myself
I yearn for the forgotten look in his eyes,
the curve of his lips,
the taste of his joy, satisfaction, surprise
and that virginal lust for passions met in kind.
I want to give him
what in ignorance
I have so long denied him,
he that I treasure most,
he that I cherish above all others.
His need,
his confession,
his longing has inspired a sea change
within me.
And if he might only look
there in my culpable remorseful eyes,
perhaps he will find what it is
that he can no longer find on his own.
With every glance I seek to say:
I am here.
And I love you.
And I am in love with you.
And I curse the day
that I ever made you feel
you weren’t worthy of my best.
I will extend myself to the best of my ability,
beyond what I have done
for any other love,
any other lover,
any other man, woman, parent or friend.
This
I swear
with a glad heart.
For you have made me a better man,
and a greater man than you would be an impossible quest
that I would never dream of
or wish to accept.
Find me Aaron.
Find me.
I am waiting in the dark
to lead us into the light.
Written by Jason Wright
August 4, 2016
He touches himself
and as I watch,
I understand that
he’s everything I’ve ever wanted,
and more.
He’s so innocently sexy.
He’s always new.
He’s still surprising me as our discourse…
as our intercourse
evolves.
He’s let me in at last
and I no longer have to watch from the window
or listen at the door.
He knows now that I revel in his pleasure,
that I long to see it repeatedly,
never stopping,
always loving this journey to his
gratification exhibition,
be it from across the room,
or deep down inside of me.
I can devour him now
with a glance,
with a look,
with my mouth drinking deep,
knowing he is satified
and will return satisfaction
if that’s what I’m craving.
I watch now.
I have an open invitation.
I am a solicited guest.
And now that I’ve been welcomed,
I never want this performance to end.
Written by Jason Wright
August 4, 2016
For A.L.S.
For nearly four years
I’ve shared my bed
with my boyfriend / partner / lover:
Aaron L. Sanko.
We don’t always
go to bed at the same time,
yet there are almost always
a few hours of crossover,
usually in the early morning hours.
In that blissful time
when sunlight begins to penetrate
our darkened sanctuary,
and the alarm insists that
it is time we disengage from
our nightly maneuvers,
we refuse to be separated…
sometimes to our peril;
we find ourselves caught
in what Aaron first christened:
The Trap
This entrapment occurs
as we drift in and out of slumber,
desperately enmeshed in one another,
when the world tries to call us away,
and we realize we want only to be together this way:
naked, entwined, united, protected and completed.
“It took me hours to get out of The Trap this morning.”
But while “the trap” is a nice little wink and a nod,
an in-joke,
a reference between lovers…
which certainly describes those moments that we cherish…
I find it amusingly ironic that this seemingly sinister state
we find ourselves in is truly an honest contradiction…
For it’s when I find myself entrapped
by Aaron’s loving arms that I feel we are the most free.
Written by Jason Wright
June 22, 2016
For Aaron
