Poems – Page 34 – BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG

November 5, 2015April 6, 2026

Fragments of Magic

“There were angels dancing at the Ritz”
on Devils Night I’m sure…

We spoke of church and God and pricks;
We’ve not been shy or pure.

We spoke of all our wicked tricks,
and mine outnumbered others.

We walked as wraiths
on River Styx
unencumbered by our lovers.

Your poison:
blend of gin and tonic;
mine you paid the price…

We drank it deep,
October Brew
was whiskey (fruit and spice).

Men from Barcelona laughed
as speeds of words were changed.

The ghosts we summoned from the past
to find ourselves explained.

———————

And still buzzing and eager
with all I hadn’t guessed,
brimming with the innocent malice
of covetousness,
blushing and bursting
at our sacred sabbat of salacity,
Ripe with long delayed spells
of audacity,

while finally finding my way
and understanding this puzzle piece
of this beautifully haunted city…
Cocooned in the simple joys
of communication, connection, lust and friendship…

with our ravenous unending thirst deceptively sated,
we headed down the yearning road
together.

(a whispered incantation “for curing hungry lovers”),

I don’t really know if you realize
how much I wanted to kiss you.

You sitting across from me
with that sexy half smile…

You,
asking if you could touch it?

If I’d been single
I’m sure I’d have kissed you then,
which in the moment
was brilliantly confusing.

I had to look away.
I couldn’t even look at you.
But I couldn’t stop smiling either.

That I managed to not kiss you
while glowing brightly
on Southern Comfort
and admitted appetite,
with the words you still refused to say…
well, apparently I have more self control
than I ever dared dream.

Perhaps you do too.

I freely admit this golden moment of desire
was a guilty craving pleasure come morning;
a cherished transgression
for which I’ll always be grateful.

You walked me to my train;
a perfect gentleman.

What a mystical happenstance
is this friendship that’s found us.

Thank you for your honesty
and your restraint.

Thank you for your confession
and your company.

And thanks for making the fantasy into flesh,
while keeping the flesh a complete mystery…

That’s a much more impressive trick
than any of mine.

Written by Jason Wright
November 5, 2015

For Christopher Tefft

July 17, 2015July 28, 2026

For a Few Hours

That’s what the message said
and suddenly I remember what it was like
to really miss
playfully biting his lips
when we’d kiss:
a ghost
of a memory
of a forgotten desire.

I met him online in late 2007;
just a hookup that attempted to be more,
and failed
because of piss poor timing.
Like a perpetual tryst
with delusions of grandeur;
genuine emotion
without proper context
or common sense.

His lips, his smile, eyes, tears,
were all exquisite.

His meaty cock was thick
and heavy,
and always filled my unprotected insides
before shooting down my throat.
Invariably he would ride my tongue,
feeding my hungry need
while I nursed my own aching pleasure.

I was
for once,
blissfully uninterested in anything
more than friendship and kinky sex.

And while months of Doctor Who,
Meeting his mum at hospital,
his friends (some of whom were my friends),
and New Year’s Eve party where we met his future husband(!)
were all appreciated and are remembered fondly…
his confession of love ripped me in half
and tore us apart.

He fell,
was crushed,
and though I eventually followed,
it was too late to save either of us.

At the time,
I thought this a tragedy,
but in light of later revelations
it seems the better of several options,
despite the pain we caused one another
at the time.

In the end
I loved him and
he loved me…

But some affairs are just that…
Not to last or to be.

Back in the present
I’m in Hell’s Kitchen
and his plane is coming in for a landing in Newark.

C to Penn Station,
NJ Transit round trip tickets are $25.00
but waiting to board
the call comes:
an earlier flight than expected
and I’ll have just missed him again.

Refund lady is nice;
I transfer from C to A at 42nd
and this feels natural
and normal
and before I know it I’m back in The Heights.

On the train I listen to “Gods and Monsters” on repeat
and Lana Del Rey sings about lost innocence.

He thanks me when I get home; he says:
“It means a lot that you dropped everything to give it a shot.”

Only just like our relationship
we suffer from piss poor timing
and we keep just missing each other.

But you know what?

The attempt was fun,
and totally worth it.

Even though we failed.

Even though we never fit together in life
as well as we did in bed
or in friendship.

Even if in the grand scheme of things
we only managed to last
for a few precious hours.

Written by Jason Wright
June 17, 2015

For Michael

July 9, 2015April 6, 2026

OUR CONVERSATION

She thanks me
for something insightful
that I said to her on Saturday,
and I know that we’re sparking
off of each other.
It’s mutual.
It’s not one sided
or selfish.

“Tell me you,” she says,
and I like that she skipped the word “about”.

“What do you want to know? I’m an open book.”
I tell her.

“What do you love?”,
She asks me this when most people ask: “What do you do?”

I’m surprised and without having to think I tell her what I know:

“I love Aaron.”

I say this
because that’s the truth,
but it’s not the whole truth;
it saves me from thinking
about how closed off I am…
But the way we speak
it’s impossible to leave it at that
and the question lingers.

“Why do you love Aaron?”

I tell her about what I was when I met Aaron,
which is also true, but not the whole truth,
and then we’re out of time.

On the train I’m compelled to answer again;
to answer more completely.

What do you love?

Joy. Creation. Inspiration. Poetry. Sex. Love. Honesty. Connection. Conversation. Meditation. Self discovery. Therapy. Listening. Communication. The freedom that comes with sharing one’s pain. Being heard and acknowledged.

These answers are wholly true,
yet I can understand how I could respond
by naming Aaron,
because he successfully relates to all of these things,
and that’s why I truly love him.

Also,
with Aaron,
with the people I meet
and surround myself with,
I have this sense of breathing rarefied air.
It’s not just that they are successful…
It’s that they’re creative,
and creation inspires me in every aspect of my life.
That’s something I love that’s never been articulated.

The words flow out of me
and I know they are the right answer
to the question that surprised me.

I turn it around in my brain.

What do you fear?

Deception. Broken trust. Violence. Illness. Inaction. Failing. Missing something. Things I don’t understand or comprehend. Confusion. Weakness.

While writing this I’m attacked
on the Northbound A Train.

I’m nudged, hit,
my headphones are ripped off my head
and some guy calls me a “Fucking queen.”

I laugh at this though he hurt me.
I continue to type.
I’m filled with emotion and my hands are shaking
but if I stop I’m going to lose it:

Shock. Heartbeat. Spark. Eat? Jason or jason? Attack. Why the relation? “Fucking Queen.” Sorry, but not sorry. Not insulted.

The man gets off the train at 145 and part of me is in shock from the attack but I’m distracted by what I wrote:

Violence followed by thoughts of food.
Was that me?
Or was that the part of me
that remembers
the perpetually recurring loss of my innocence?
What does that mean?
I need to talk about this in therapy.

I was so afraid in those few minutes on the train.
I didn’t know what to do
but I think my laughter
may have saved me.

Laughter can do that.

I’m not sure if it’s better or worse
that what I wrote scared me far more
than the man who wanted to hurt me.

An unspoken question:
What do you want?

Clarity. Continuity. Understanding. Safety. Assurance. Support. Guidance. Answers. More questions. More time with Aaron. More time with friends.

And more conversations
like the ones that inspired this.

Written by Jason Wright
JULY 9, 2015

for Alexandra Silber

Note: I suspect the punctuation in this is all wrong, but I’ve kept it to myself long enough.

June 4, 2015April 10, 2026

Mystery of Tina

The first time I saw you was at a wedding
and you were stunning.

Not just beautful.
Not just good looking
and not only pretty.
Stunning.

Like meeting a movie star.
A movie star married to one of your favorite cousins.
A movie star married into your favorite branch of your family tree.
A movie star who wasn’t just amazing to look at,
but who smiled and spoke to me
in ways no previous “cousin-in-law” had done up to that point.

You were interesting, down to earth, surprising,
and only speaking to you for a few minutes I sensed a great depth.

Over the years we really haven’t spent much time together
but almost every time we speak there’s some new glimmer
of what sparkles within you, just underneath the surface.

A darkness and a mystery, a gleaming otherness;
seemingly fragile, but that’s likely an inaccurate perception.

Perhaps it’s despair or courage?
Perhaps it’s pain or a haunting melody that only you can hear?
Perhaps it’s all of these things or none of them,
but it is there,
whatever it is,
behind your eyes,
and whatever questions are answered
and asked behind the masks
that you appear to wear…

Those mysteries make you approachable, magical and breathtaking.

Christopher chose well.

Written by Jason Wright
June 4, 2015

For Tina White,
because she requested it.

May 19, 2015May 8, 2026

The Kiss

Saturday.
The worst day.
The day of disappointment.
The day I got lost
and almost fell apart.

“What’s going on?”

His kiss was resisted,
and then passionate,
and wanting for more…

Sex can often free me from this state
but there was no time
and the kiss was enough
to shake me free,
long enough to help me see.

It’s not that there weren’t rough patches;
it’s just that his kiss allowed me to see reality.

That kiss woke me from my fucked up slumber.

Aaron’s kiss brought me back to life.

Written by Jason Wright
May 19, 2015

March 29, 2015May 8, 2026

Walking Away

Some days are harder than others.

Some days his voice is so loud
that I can’t hear or feel anything else
without turning myself inside out.

It never lasts for more than an hour or two
(often times less than that)
but in that time he makes sure
that I have his undivided attention.

This can be problematic
and disorienting
when I’m in public.

Our communication can never last for long
because I don’t have the reserves.
It’s too all consuming to sustain itself.

He doesn’t like to be ignored
and I don’t do it on purpose
but it takes a lot of energy
and skills that I’ve not yet completely developed.

And paying attention to him can be dangerous,
but so can ignoring him. Clearly.

Sometimes he wants me to throw all of my food away.
He’s jealous, I think.

Some weekends, everything I plan on
falls apart because of him.

The way that I’m falling apart,
but seldom admit.

Every day that I don’t cut is a victory.
I know this.
But it doesn’t feel like the truth.
It feels like cowardice.

If I could just cut him out of me…
I’d be dead.

That’s the problem.

I think I’m beginning to hate him.
Hate myself.
Because he’s keeping me prisoner.
I missed the party on Friday,
the opera on Saturday,
the walk in the park today
because of his need…
and my aversion.

These feel like failures or defeats,
but is it a failure if it keeps you alive?

I try to talk myself through it
but my feelings are complicated
and often contradictory.

I don’t think anyone around me understands
and why should they?
It hurts being so alone though.

It’s just him and me.
Like when she abandoned me. Us.

There are people that love me,
which is incredible really,
because there’s a big piece of myself that’s missing.

He’s completely disconnected from me
and when that connection is made
the spark of that moment is blinding…
but nobody gets to see it but me.

Or maybe I’m wrong and people do see him,
or the absence of him?

Maybe people love me because of him.

I don’t really know.

All I know is that he’s closer to me today
than he usually is
and I’m alone
and I don’t think that’s a good idea.

Time to go for a walk.

Written by Jason Wright
March 29, 2015

February 13, 2015July 28, 2026

4 Valentines: Flowers For Aaron

The first was in twelve
and it all seemed so new…

I didn’t quite trust
that what we had was true…

But in that year I leapt
and together we traveled…

We began a new life
as my last one unraveled.

And when thirteen arrived
and Valentine’s came…

I was in love with you
and quite unrestrained…

Love can be scary but
you made it seem safe…

Our love in time flourished
when we came to this place.

In fourteen our love
was nourished and grew…

We’d made our new home
and I found that in you…

We’d planted our roots
and our love proved so awesome…

What was already beauteous
grew and then blossomed.

Now fifteen arrives
and what can I say?

You’re selfishly
still the best part of my day.

You’re my better half.
You’re my friend and my brother.

You’re my partner in crime.
You’re my family.
My lover.

You’re all of these aspects,
and I cherish them, true…

But someday I’ll make
an honest man out of you.

Written by Jason Wright
February 13, 2015

For Aaron Sanko

January 8, 2015May 16, 2026

Northbound (NSFW)

On the one train in Manhattan a song,
a lyric makes me think of San Francisco.

I’m shaving in Paul’s bathroom
while man I met at Radical Fairy drag party is watching me.

I’m nervous.
He’s so beautiful
and several years older than me;
he’s 30 & I’m 26.

It seemed like a lot then.
Maybe because the last guy I loved
was 9 years younger than him;
they had the same name.

I cut myself as I often did back then.
A tear of blood dripping down my face
and before I can react
blonde ken doll man moves in
and purposefully licks me clean.
Sacrament.

I remember wondering if he was crazy.
Blood. San Francisco.
I want to throw him against the wall
so I can penetrate him and understand.
Is there pain in his eyes or lust?
Possibly both.

I don’t remember what happened next
but the next song is beginning
and I imagine kissing him,
shaking him…

“Are you crazy?”
“Do you want to die?”

A side thought where I’m less sympathetic
and I give him the degradation I imagine him craving.
Strip. Kneel. Baptism in piss and cum.
Fucking him mercilessly.

The thought passes and I wonder at his state of mind.

He was newly out then and haunted by his past;
“But I’m a Cheerleader” was the wrong movie to watch;
it filled him with memories that made him sad.
I think he was reading “The Vampire Armand”;
I was reading “Merrick”.
His parent was seemingly gravely ill.
They called during our first sexual encounter
to request his presence at the hospital.
He talked them out of it.
I tried to talk him into it,
but instead he said “Damn” while I bit his nipple.
I remember telling him that his asshole tasted amazing
and then him asking if there were any that didn’t…
and I wonder if he ever found out?
A taste test with naked men all standing in a row.

He fucked me in that livingroom.
It was days later.
After he’d taken me to a leather bar and spoke of dangerous sex,
but nothing about the boyfriend he’d confess to later.
Devastating at the time.
I wanted to be his.
Just a crazy dream I guess.
Lies and dreams and strange encounters that I still cherish.

We’re friends on Facebook.
I don’t think of him often
and I’ve not seen him in person in over 14 years.

I’m 40 now and I’ve been fucked at least 6 times in the last week.
My partner is curious about why I’m so frenzied of late and I honestly don’t know;
I’m sure it’s nothing to do with this…
but past sexual encounters fill my thoughts of late.
This is but the latest example.

Walking from the train I ran up to my place to write this down.
I don’t know why.
It seems less important now.
I need to get groceries.

Written by Jason Wright
January 8, 2015

December 15, 2014July 28, 2026