Category: Poems

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Always

You tell him that sex with me
will be completely emotionless for you,
or at least that’s what I hear without really listening,
but what you truly said is that
our sexual activity
will be completely emotionless for US,
but that’s not wholly accurate…
because I will feel something;
if I didn’t already feel something
I wouldn’t even bother.

You say that people don’t usually
FUCK their ex-boyfriends,
which I find funny
because so far,
they’re the only people I fuck,
and why not?

I’ve loved you for almost as long as I’ve known you
and can’t / won’t force myself to feel nothing.

But there’s NOTHING threatening to others
by this potential reconnecting of interlocking bodies,
because while sex will ALWAYS be emotional for me,
I also hold no illusions that
my having sex with you will bind you to me,
making you a prisoner
to only satisfy my needs,
to only service my pleasure…

Our FUCKING will not reintegrate us
into some magical reiteration
of our former couplehood.

The idea is preposterous.

As preposterous as truth
and as honest as fiction.

Written by Jason Wright
October 2, 2019

For Michael E.

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Women

I have kissed women
to sleep with their men.

I have kissed women
to have them again.

I have kissed women
and oft I reflect this:

I have kissed women…
I do not regret this.

Written by Jason Wright
October 1, 2019

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Ride

I want to be in bed with you
or maybe just alone.

To just be getting head from you
or sleeping sleep of stone.

Our cocks are strong
(though pills are wrong);
this walking town in blur…

I hate abusive
mindless music;
bliss is my chauffeur.

Written by Jason Wright
September 30, 2019

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Heartbreak and Sickness

When you cut me out
it feels like betrayal.

When you strut and nut
it reveals our portrayal
of unified bliss
is a kiss and a drug.

Whatever you do
it will not be enough
to slake my erection
and satisfy hunger:

Symptoms of sickness
from when I was younger.

Written by Jason Wright
September 19, 2019

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Doctored Raffle

I live unencumbered
then fall in black hole…

As he gives him his number
I lose all control…

He hands him his ticket;
he smiles at spouse…

I should feel quite different;
instead I’m aroused…

I should call this off
like any adult…

He turns head and coughs
as he gives him results…

I’m awkward;
can’t move;
the swinger has spoken…

The play doctor grooves
as winner is chosen.

Written by Jason Wright
September 19, 2019

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Gospel

Write for retirement;
just at your leisure.

Write for requirement
or write for just pleasure.

Write without warning
for real life and poetry.

Write about mourning
or strife (if unknowingly).

How is it my choice
supported thy fighting?

How is it my voice
(distorted by writing)
is what liberates me
when lies often do
more than castrate me
when lies are the truth?

Written by Jason Wright
September 12, 2019

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Returning to Flesh

Returning to trains
and to thoughts left behind;
enduring these pains
as existence rewinds
with smiles anew
for the lust and the yearning
that keeps me alive…
that keeps me returning
with Aaron a GO
and possibly Michael –
I’m questioning content
of sodomy cycle:
“This one is solid!”
while “This one is pointless!”,
“This one is squalid…”
Til one is appointed
worthy of probing
for one of my station:
a worthy disrobing
for self-excavation;
worthy of one’s progression
through sex;
worthy of love
through expression of flesh.

Written by Jason Wright
September 12, 2019

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Good Enough

Five years ago this month
I had wept.

Not good enough
or not good enough yet.

And three years ago
it happened again.

He didn’t love me;
only a friend.

And now once again
or still not, I’m fraught.

I thought that I was
but it turns out I’m not.

Written by Jason Wright
August 15, 2019

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The Woman in Spades

A pearl wisdom true
gives reflection it’s depth.

A girl I once knew
lived a lesbian death.

She lied in her harbor
where enemy craved her.

She died a martyr;
lycanthropy saved her.

A reckoning spree:
woman slaked takes acumen.

The beckoning tree
can again make her human.

But will she return
to the world up above?

Why must she burn
for the girl that she loves?

Why must she suffer?
Why must she drown?
Why trust another?
Why up and not down?

Why must she try
myth reversals as treatment?

Why must she lie
with werewolves in secret?

Written by Jason Wright
August 15, 2019

For J.B.: “The Drowning Girl”, The Wolf and the Woman in spades.

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Judged

Confusing DILF picture
adds layer of lust
to bruising filth mixture;
betrayer of trust
who back in the past
when present was future,
through lack of the ask
cast gent as abuser.

*

Doctored exuberance
from strangest of men.

I was awkward pubescence
and patience by then.

My doctor was present
which deftly he used.

Doctor was pleasant
which left me confused.

More than one patient;
Jason inside me.

More than one statement
was latent inside me.

And doctor was plural;
what’s quizzically true
is that doctor was neural
but physical too.

More than one practice.
More than one patient.
More than one mattress.
More than one Jason.

Deranged dereliction
of duty imbued
with strange contradictions
that strangely are true.

Innocent action
or wholly obscene?

Fact that this fraction
unholy was clean.

With no penetration
in sterile space.

And no abdication
of crime or disgrace.

With no policed questions
the proctors undress me.

Priests at confessions;
the doctors molest me.

Doctors are judged
through initial neurology.

The awkward begrudged
judicial apology.

*

And DILF in the picture
looks back from the past
and I am not injured
but was I the last?

And was I the only
or was I just lucky?

With no testimony
at least I’m not bloody.

Written by Jason Wright
August 12, 2019

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