BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
A Work in Progress…Welcome Back!
The scraps of a quilt
discordant yet clever,
A map made of silk
sown by spiders together,
The fighters raced home
and beneath covers sickened,
The lives of ill omens
unsheathed and then quickened.
The scraps of a life
from a day unremembered.
The traps of a wife
who delayed then dismembered
to scraps what before
was something like art…
Her collapse is more
than the sum of its parts.
Written by Jason Wright
January 24, 2019
A schism divides
and cleaves unrepented.
The system provides
and leaves us fragmented.
The fracture of fiction;
the lies when they’re spoken.
Fashioning friction
that dies when we’re broken.
Understand truth blinds
unfurled when run through.
I’m a man of two minds
in a world ripped in two.
Written by Jason Wright
January 24, 2019
Bleeding and breathing and moving
to accommodate secret meeting of strangers
who are smart enough to avoid
hospital television ramblings
I block out with Endgame trailer music.
I’ve never seen an experienced barista
struggle so much with what was right in front of them – –
the instructions are right there on the side of the SHORT cup
but she removes them to apply them to a TALL
before being told politely that it’s meant to be short –
as she then awkwardly corrects that bizarre error
and then proceeds to get everything else wrong –
which I will not allow.
I paid $4.00 for that
so please fill it to the top
like I asked.
Thank you so much!
Waiting room madness continues
as we’re all pressed into service
for mysterious summons
whose purpose, when inquired
is refused by staff
who ask that we cease to congregate
near the windows…
What are they hiding from us?
Not long before two police arrive,
and then two more…
and then Anna asks me into her office
so we miss the exciting conclusion.
With procedural horror drama behind us
we fall into productive discussions
of PTSD, hot urologists,
respectful penis inspectors,
family dinners and reinforcement –
positive vs. negative –
bleeding and breathing and moving
to accommodate my future integration.
When I reach the ground floor lobby,
the fantastic woman named after an
ancient female vampire asks me for my details
and we witness man being seen to
by a horde of police men
surrounding an ambulance.
Some people need more attention than others.
Written by Jason Wright
December 11, 2018
Here are the words
of this object’s confession:
I’ve spent a great deal
of time pressed against Heaven.
But being so close
when denied holy union.
Was torture at worst
and at best just confusion.
I thought to be free
would release me from Hell.
But the Devil arrived
and enlightened my cell.
As he retched me free of
true Heaven’s embrace.
I found Hell was Heaven with my Hell replaced
by actual suffering; actual pain…
He showed me my torment
had been my own shame.
My own unacceptance
denied my admittance.
My disillusionment
blinded by brilliance.
My savior was there with me
there all the time.
But I failed to see
and denied him three times.
So Devil came calling
and caused my catharsis.
The damned saved my soul
when I saw light in darkness.
And burned in the bright
of that unholy day…
I learned what is right
and yearned not to stray…
Burned by transgression
and melted like chocolate…
Returned to the Heaven
of Christian’s back pocket.
Written by Jason Wright
November 29, 2018
For Christian De Gré’s wallet,
you lucky bastard.
You were lost in the dark
and I sounded absurd.
Exhausted remarks
left you feeling unheard.
I swear that I heard you
and I feel regret.
I’m aware I deferred you
and caused our upset.
My only defense
is a timeless cliché.
My lonely pretense
is a rhymeless betrayal
of love and of care but
was truly attraction:
Thought overwhelmed
by the prime crime of passion.
Written by Jason Wright
November 29, 2018
For Aaron
Strike the match.
Strike that.
Strike up the band
and burn us to the ground.
Listen to nothing.
Listen to no one.
The deaf,
moved by deepest vibrations,
rise up to meet us
betwixt silence and cacophony;
teaching us how to feel
and interpret the words
they can’t hear
but feel with a depth
which we sometimes lack.
We are blind
and struggle –
reaching out to recognize
the face of reality –
the face of the universe –
inverse infinity –
infinite perversions of intended design.
Revelation yearned for
is as momentous as imagined…
if only for moments
which we believe were imaginary.
Written by Jason Wright
November 29, 2018
The boredom of youth
relieved by seduction –
no love or lust;
just blissful destruction –
just practice;
no hardship;
no need for regret –
just beautiful lips
of boys he’ll forget.
Beautiful boys
together in boredom –
the time of their lives
in self enslaved whoredom –
beautiful boys
who’ll one day be men –
who dreamed they were toys
when they would be again.
Written by Jason Wright
November 29, 2018
A new direction
to an old destination,
A true connection
devoid of sensation
response to divergent
influent stimuli…
Lifelong corruption
to utter destruction –
beyond deconstruction
say live and let die.
Written by Jason Wright
November 28, 2018
The beast confessed drink
is poured toward successful.
The greased suppressed wink
is abhorred and disheveled.
The least caressed kink
is a sore spot for several.
The priest dressed in pink
is a whore for the devil.
Written by Jason Wright
November 28, 2018
Regimes bathed in scarlet
ceremony behavior.
In dreams lathed and starlit:
my loneliness savior.
In creams craved by artist
named only betrayer.
Yet I am the harlot
and he only player.
Condition is chalky;
deplores the reboot…
For position we jockey;
he scores and I shoot…
I launch at my folly;
I stream with no joy…
I relaunch and volley;
I scream for the boy.
The stream precedes chasm;
the target is painted…
The dream seeds orgasm
and harlot is tainted.
The player has won
as my body is cheated…
Two halves made one…
disembodied…
depleted.
Written by Jason Wright
November 20, 2018