BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
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I dream about you
and the way that you taste.
You are the MONSTER
who I can’t replace.
A minister fired
for dealing desire.
Sinister plyer
of feelings inspired.
The singular choir
who sings and then shoves me.
You are the spire
that towers above me.
You are the fire
which quells and then gloves me.
You are the liar
who tells me he loves me.
Written by Jason Wright
September 30, 2026
For Michael
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
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