BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
A Work in Progress…Welcome Back!
The voice of sex
is hard to describe,
Can’t explain how
it squirms between thighs,
Can’t quantify
the subtle confection
which twenty years later
still stirs my erection.
It isn’t the lyrics…
It’s not the appearance;
such pretty covers
don’t cause interference
tween shoegaze dream-pop
and all else surrounds them:
Still feel the magic
from when I first found them…
Still feel the power…
Still lost in their sway…
Still dance to Crank
when I want to pray.
Written by Jason Wright
July 28, 2017
I’ve had adventures
and I have explored,
and I had achieved
every possible score,
but you’re taking me further;
you are the key…
Enslaved to desires:
you’re setting me free.
Written by Jason Wright
July 28, 2017
For Aaron
Skipping by Nero
was never intended
Stripping my intro
from man I befriended
And he tried to change her
but she never loved him
I wanted to tell her
that she should not scold him
Wanted connection
when I could not hold him
But Nero was damaged
by lack of affection
His eyes held the world
bereft of direction
The world burned to ashes
infected by pain
And the last of his tears
were lost in the rain
Written by Jason Wright
July 27, 2017
Steve was a shadow
I swore not to touch.
A slip of a boy
with eyeliner smudged.
That he was forbidden
made him all the more tempting.
Catherine Wheel sang
while I was pretending
that I did not want him,
as if he was nothing…
When behind my closed eyes
we were constantly fucking.
Written by Jason Wright
July 27, 2017
my headphones are broken
already ripped open
could not find the cloth
and I’m running late
don’t know that I want this
can I stand here dressed like this?
goth boy is sweating
panic on train
but breathe and get through this
you know you can do this
you just have to break from
your mind’s lonely cage
I’ll dry and arrive there
Jamie will not care
get it all done
and you’ll be all the rage
Written by Jason Wright
July 27, 2017
Jeff was my lover
when we watched “The Lover”
a novel I’ve read
a handful of times.
I have the music
I chose to live through it
it can make me sad
to think of those times.
The smell of him naked
that memory faded
can often be vivid
when he lingers there.
He came here to see me
L.A. to N.Y.C.
“Black is the color
of my true love’s hair”.
He was here and I saw him
his smile was awesome
and our kiss goodnight
was a ghost lost in time…
I longed to devour
him there in his tower
but I walked away then
from what once was mine.
And maybe he’ll miss this
or maybe dismiss this
my words as a candy kiss
swoon of a child.
But I mean what I’m writing
still find him exciting
no point now in hiding
Jeff left me beguiled.
Written by Jason Wright
July 27, 2017
Diminished by instance
of alcohol anal,
Innocent witnesses
lust and betrayal,
Combines what he sees
in a powerful mixture,
Laced with unease
to offset elixir.
A cocktail of horrors:
salacious addictions,
Supreme satisfaction
despite contradictions,
Which heighten delight
and gratify longing,
Even as he is abused
while he’s watching.
He might shit his pants
as he contemplates pleasure,
Is this abject lust
or a shade of stark terror?
Flaccid, electric,
unsure and ashamed.
The faggot is limp
but inside he’s inflamed.
Internal struggles,
Spiritual / Bodily,
Embarrassed, Self-Conscious,
Ignominious: audibly.
A blush as the rush
liquefies and then exits,
Assuagement replaced
by miserable wetness,
The others are laughing
and fuck him in tandem,
Surrounded by men
he’s completely abandoned.
Time seems to stop
like a licentious dream,
Betrayal and lust:
contentiousness team,
Combined as a drug
they inspire enslavement,
He’s never known pleasure
that matched this debasement.
And now understanding
this sacrilege holy,
Consumed in an instant
must be enjoyed slowly,
He’ll return to this moment
in lust filled reflection,
And he will shed tears
as he strokes his erection.
Written by Jason Wright
July 26, 2017
I instruct him
in destruction;
in my need for his seduction…
And he rises
to occasion;
nearly late from masturbation…
I run for trains with courage found,
Express train travel:
Brooklyn bound…
I feel ill from my confusion,
Sex drenched ultimate illusion,
Might cost more than just my soul:
Excess lust within control.
Written by Jason Wright
July 26, 17
Various sentences
rise through the mist,
Queries for Romeos
found in our midst,
Did they know when they met me
I didn’t exist?
Perhaps they have doubted
yet doubts were dismissed?
To be fair
my partner in crime
is pretend,
Oh he’s quite real to me
and of that I contend,
But they don’t see the truth
in the lies that we send,
Try not to smile…
Must not reveal guile…
We are only unreal
to our weak weekend friends.
Written by Jason Wright
July 26, 2017
Nothing to write but I feel like it’s coming.
Waves are still crashing. Heart is still humming.
Jumping through hoops to receive your bouquet…
The truth was delivered on Brian’s first day.
Brian was there in two-thousand winter.
First month of year pierced heart like a splinter
which remains there today; his birthday remembered:
January dream in July of December.
There was snow where he touched me.
Brian, scared that he loved me.
Brian stared. Brian cared as I woke with a fright.
And there in the shade of the dream where we made love
he carried and married me all through the night.
Seven-teen years and I still feel those kisses
though we never have visits; explicit or shamed.
And I never accepted he’d been resurrected
for in death I was blessed while in life only blamed.
Written by Jason Wright
July 26, 2017