BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
A Work in Progress…Welcome Back!
Dreams of grandfather
confessing his love…
Memories of children;
school can be rough.
Remembering dreams
filled with men and with kisses…
What it was to be young
and often how vicious…
It all seems important
but is gone in an instant…
It all seems so fragile
yet oddly insistent…
Every blink of my eyes
brings more thoughts to pin me…
It all seems so varied
yet crashes within me.
Written by Jason Wright
September 8, 2011
Wish you were here
and that things were the same
as they were when I met you
with no one to blame…
with no illness or madness
or distance between us…
I wish you were here
with desire to fill us…
I wish you were riding
and we were together…
I wish we were writing
and we were forever…
I wish that the others
who found you were kinder…
My wishes serve as a constant reminder
that wishes mean nothing in the face of disaster…
I wish I could hear the sound of your laughter…
I wish I inspired it…
Although it sounds sappy…
I wish you the best and hope that you’re happy.
Written by Jason Wright
August 26, 2011
For Sean: who inspired much more and deserves so much better.
Wasting away…
Ten years lost to illness.
The moments
between us
are filled with such stillness…
Cherished,
Exchanged,
Sharing our stories…
With chapters
in common
and frank allegories…
He gives it to me
and I’m touched
without touching…
He whispers to me
and I’m flushed
without blushing…
He leaves me
with passion
transcended to form…
The canvas
is thunder;
his heart is the storm.
The sea of emotion
by these colors rendered;
the work of a man
who never surrendered,
The man in the painting
who’s insides are bruised…
Is haunted by faces
that used and abused.
Some of the faces
are drugs that he’s taken…
Others are ghosts
that still leave him shaken…
Some are illusions,
Others invented,
Some are the sins that he’s never repented.
Others are faces
of boys he’s not dated…
He thought that he had
but they really translated
into nights meaning nothing
except what he’s losing…
For riches imagined
and instrument moving…
The face is the horror
of waiting untasted…
The face is my mirror…
The face of time wasted.
Written By Jason Wright
August 14, 2011
For: Johnny Vaughn, who’s artwork inspired it.
Johnny V passed away a little over 6 years after I wrote this. He was a caring friend when I deeply needed one. He and I had shared history but his adventures had been with people who were only ever on my periphery and I cherished each and every story that he gifted me with. He was also a brilliant painter and gave me the work that inspired this poem, though I also put in as many references to his tales that only he might recognize. I’m gratified that he read this and had such a positive reaction.
Rest in Peace brother.
Awakened with hope;
quickened with laughter…
A smile for child and all that came after…
But not long at all,
And I cannot leave,
I struggle to smile…
to breathe and believe.
The week has wreaked havoc;
made weak what was strong…
I struggle to smile…
to be and belong.
No matter the struggle;
how great or how often…
At times to be strong
one embraces exhaustion.
Written by Jason Wright
July 21, 2011
For all my life
felt left behind
It’s not too late
to find my mind
It’s not too late
to make my way
It’s not too late
I start today.
Written by Jason Wright
July 4, 2011
Edit: 08-12-26 – This was serious. This was a signpost that I followed, which changed my entire life. 4 months later I was in a relationship. 5 or 6 months later I had moved and had a new job. Less than a year after that I was moving to New York. I also got back into therapy around that time and I’ve worked at it ever since, with a lot of hard earned progress.
The bald boy dancing on the pole
is amazing
but I don’t want him.
Yet I want to fuck.
Want to be swept up in something
and forget what I am.
I drink.
I’m buzzed.
And I can forget the horrible weekend.
This is something close to what that bitch felt on Friday.
I dance and I sweat and I drink and I talk to the pretty girl named Ashley
who just broke up with her boyfriend of 4.5 years.
Men are dicks.
She and her friends talk about the balls on my chin.
I pretend that I’m normal.
I pretend that I don’t feel ill.
I smile and I laugh and it feels good even though it isn’t real.
When I leave I vomit on the sidewalk.
It tastes like pop rocks thanks to Sex on the Playground.
The Breathe Me song echoes in my head
and it won’t leave me alone
and I’m grateful.
These words pour out of me.
Typing is magic.
Written by Jason Wright
May 31, 2011
You were only 18.
I was 20 + 6.
You seduced without trying
and then hurt me for kicks.
But first came the smiles,
the passion and laughter…
The promise of love
that preceded disaster.
The heart of me: ruined.
The spark of me: broken.
The pain made me wish that we’d never spoken.
For the child that lived
deep inside of me cried…
And the ghost of him haunted
although he’d survived…
8 years suffering
followed instead…
Until I embraced him
and let him be fed…
And the child inside
was nourished and lived…
And I faced my demons
and learned to forgive…
And you and I spoke
of a love that was killed…
Yet the friendship we’ve made:
the promise fulfilled.
Written by Jason Wright
May 11, 2011
For Travis
No whisper, plea, cock or song
has penetrated deeply in ever so long
not enough to be felt
Just the hand he’s been dealt
The boy in the shiny black dress.
With eyes made of riddles
telling lies like they’re gospel
the boy is a wizard who needs to be seen.
In the lacy black darkness
those eyes hide a hardness
that the frilly black silk tries to harness obscene.
My words make no sense
in the light of such madness
The light of the day drives dreams dripped in sadness.
But what of the truth
in the dark of such magic
The night of such lies is what makes us both tragic.
And there is no song, cock, plea or whisper
can charm the illusion behind the boy’s zipper
not enough to be felt
Just the hand he’s been dealt
The boy in the shiny black dress.
Written By Jason Wright
April 23, 2010
For George: Who Was There Though He Wasn’t.
I was roused from sleep
that I never slept,
Remembering tears
that I’d never wept,
Driving through rain
that never did fall,
I traveled without ever
moving at all.
I drifted through strangers
from far distant lands,
Until he arrived
with the clasping of hands,
And lost in his eyes
and his smile alight,
The dream began waking
and the grounded took flight.
He haunted me
though he was not even dead,
“You’re a little smitten already”
he said,
And then found in a kiss
and then lost in the dance…
Perfection is seldom found
in romance.
“Maybe Someday”
is a song by The Cure,
The words that he spoke
and then left me unsure,
If this weren’t a dream
then how to resist?
Only in dreams
could this dream exist.
Written By Jason Wright
March 13, 2010
For Christian
— My Thoughts: 10-23-26
Reading this now, in 2026, I don’t actually remember who Christian was, but looking at my old blog, he was apparently some guy I met online who I hoped to be friends with. Possibly more? I was dating Michael Slaughter at the time but things were tense between us and we were soon in an open relationship due to his constant cheating and inability be honest with me about it. I thought if we were open and it was expected that we’d be seeing other people he could be more direct with me with less fear or repercussions – and that I might actually know him on the level that I had long hoped to. That didn’t work out though. I wonder what might have been if I’d just ended things with him sooner? I wonder about him a lot actually; I imagine various scenarios and so I’ve written about him a lot over the years, Michael, not Christian, who again, I don’t really remember.
Her body is hard
but her body is small…
She sees that her children
are not worth it all…
She’d rip off her crown
if it wasn’t attached…
She’d boil her eggs
but they’ve already hatched…
She’d scurry away
but she’s trapped by her belly…
So she prays that she’ll drown
in her own royal jelly.
Written By Jason Wright
January 4, 2009