BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
A Work in Progress…Welcome Back!
Just out of sight –
he’s dismissed there because
He’s just not my type
but then what if he was?
I stare
puzzled
grim
with a girl by his side.
Bare muscled slim
with a pearl to confide:
Be what you are
and dare to admit it.
Under the stars
you stand there acquitted.
Systemic lies
are why we can’t trust…
The wisdom of sighs…
The secrets of lust.
Written by Jason Wright
August 20, 2026
When we met
you set on fire
as you kissed me
from above.
When we met
you were a liar
and convinced me
of your love.
When I slept
with that imposter
he was always
underhand.
When we met
you were a monster
but I didn’t
understand.
I couldn’t see
the truth
inside deceptive
aching flame.
You couldn’t keep
the proof
of my perspective
from your shame.
A shame
that only blizzards slayed
me tragic
in your eyes.
Like a game
that only wizards play
your magic
was a lie.
I don’t regret
the level
where you spurned me
with your spell.
When we met
you were the devil
and you burned me
with your Hell.
The fire
left its mark
and I’m now
forever changed.
And required
hefty spark
has left me now
deranged.
For now
I understand
but I’m haunted
by the squandered.
For now
you are a man
but I only want
the monster.
Written by Jason Wright
August 8, 2026
The divisional shadows
of the math we inspire;
derision of prose
by the wrath of desire
has led me astray
like a pawn to your laughter:
send me away
at the dawn of disaster.
Cock crows the call of
this glamor forbidden,
the clock on the wall
is a camera I’ve hidden,
and sight swarms the notion
of friendly portrayal
as light forms the motion
intent on betrayal.
My eyes disappear
as my brain overloads.
Beneath chandelier
I feel drained and exposed.
The world starts to shimmer;
I head to the gallows…
As glimmer of hope
is divided by shadows.
Written by Jason Wright
August 9, 2026
Inspired by a particularly kinky dream I had. It’s also an expanded fragment which began when I started typing words onto a collage for this site:
What I want
on BIRTH / DAY
is to see you undone.
To find worth in fray…
To be there when you cum.
Spending our pleasure
in treasured foul play.
The unending show of
pretending to stray.
In opera of trust
to be played by the playful…
The opera of lust
left us splayed and unfaithful.
These schemes of seduction;
a librettist’s triad…
My dreams of destruction
are the wettest I’ve had.
And as we conspire:
breathless / delusional.
Things I desire:
senselessly usual.
I am your boy
when the handsome and beautiful
leave me destroyed
when you are unsuitable.
Always pretending
to be my sad savior.
A catechist’s cream
is just as astrictory.
Always depending
on their bad behavior…
The masochist’s dream
is so contradictory.
Written by Jason Wright
August 8, 2026
A few years before
our friend lay down dead,
You said I was handsome…
or that’s what she’d said,
That’s all I remembered
and I could not fathom
why boy I remembered
would think I was handsome.
But when I looked back
she’d said quite a lot…
She spoke of my family
and what you had thought,
But I didn’t ask
for more at the time
so I’m left in the dark
of remarks about crimes.
Written by Jason Wright
August 7, 2026
When I was just 17
I fell for his pain.
He was different from me
and yet we were the same.
There between walls
and hospital beds…
There where we said
all the things left unsaid.
All but the truth
of the love that I felt.
But I know that he knew it;
he told me himself.
He signed it in ink
on a board for goodbyes
as we crossed the brink
to begin our own lives.
I thought he was gone;
though in dreams he was near.
“We must love our loved ones
while we have them here.”
And I swooned
as I grieved
and then one day I healed…
Before the wound
cleaved me in two
and revealed…
That he was alive;
it was I who had died.
And all that I’d felt
was because of a lie.
Written by Jason Wright
July 24, 2026
For Brian – on his 50th birthday.
Exhibited signs
describe a voyeur…
Prohibited lines
inscribe this auteur…
I am subliminal
inside my screams.
I am a criminal
inside my dreams.
The fire divides me…
Desire inside me
provokes the despairing
with no stroke or sound.
The fair sky has reddened…
Disguised Armageddon…
Smoke alarms blaring;
no smoke to be found.
I dream of eavesdropping.
My heart isn’t stopping.
As man that we watch speaks the same words as me.
Lies leave the feared thrall.
Eyes see as tears fall.
Time stops as stopwatch seeks the crosswords in me.
Written by Jason Wright
July 16, 2026
These were just a handful of musings about different things from my week. For instance, our smoke alarms (which are very loud) went off several times for no reason that we can fathom. But there was heavy smoke in the sky from forest fires in Canada, which made the sky look really creepy, which someone described to be as “Armageddon like”. I had dreams of listening in on conversations and sexual experiences. I also had something like nightmares after watching several YouTube videos about serial killers. Go figure! lol
“How was your birthday?”
(before it has happened)
is the dumbest of questions
that made me look crazy.
So I asked of the others
on the twelfth of our August…
and the answered reward
was the laughter of Amy.
They screamed,
the triad
as they twitched without words
All of her life
had been tragic and strange…
In the dream that I had
which wasn’t about HER
who never had heard
of Alice in Chains.
I witnessed her leaving
without what she came with
I tried to return it
but couldn’t remember
The business of grieving
with no one to stay with
can cry and
can burn –
could it even dismember?
The blood spray and spatters
As the dream loses focus…
as the words lose all meaning
and are lost to the vandals.
None of which matters much in the hereafter…
None of which woke us…
I blew out the candles.
Written by Jason Wright
June 14, 2026
For Rachel
———————-
I was inspired by a dream I had, in which I, with a group of others had saved some girls from some type of disaster or horror. We gave them a ride in our large vehicle which they entered via the passenger side window. The vehicle was a car at the time but was often hard to define – changing shape and proportion. One of the girls had never heard a certain type of music, a particularly band name which also changed as it was discussed, but was at one point Alice in Chains – and this girl was paranoid that someone would steal her bag, despite us all being in a car with nowhere to escape to. We took the girls to a mystical home for girls (which was less a home and more magic like our car). They got off our bus (which was a bus at this point and the not the car we’d been in when we rescued them) and we felt like we’d accomplished our task, until we saw that the girl had left her beloved bag in our car. We had the bus driver return and I took the bag to the magic space ship home for girls. Two girls were entering the ship and I stood in / near the doorway to appeal for help in finding the girl who wasn’t anywhere that I could see. I described her to others and nobody knew her. I couldn’t remember her name but said she’d never heard Alice in Chains. I got the impression that this was heaven or a safe space for women who had been abused. Rachel Lynn Burleson Eanes, who I’d met at a hospital years before, was there – but in the dream her name was Amy. Another girl was in the same hospital with us, Amy Fulford, so maybe in my dream I just got mixed up? I called to her. She didn’t respond but gave me a look. Maybe because I was calling her Amy and not Rachel? I asked her how her birthday was – knowing that we had the same one, only 2 years apart, but then realized that her birthday in 2026 hasn’t happened yet (which explained the insulted / amused expression she shot me) but then I said aloud that it hadn’t happened yet. I said, “Well what about all the birthdays I missed? All the August 12ths?” and she didn’t stop and she didn’t turn, but the laughter she gave was genuine and it was hers. It was hers. I woke up. I knew what I’d heard in the dream and who that was and I held onto that sound for as long as I could. I didn’t eat. I didn’t take my meds. I wandered to the computer and wrote the dream down as best as I could, even though the weight and the depth of them was fading quickly…and then I wrote this. And now I can take my meds and eat – I can kiss Aaron, and start the day, because some of this has been jotted down, which gives me some peace at least.
I was just Twenty-Six
(October 2000)
when I met a man
(though I still dream about him)
and now nearly double
I read what was written
when he seemed like trouble
and wholly forbidden.
I was just Twenty-Six
(November 2000)
when I lost that man
(but still wrote about him)
we read of vampires;
that’s what I named us;
thirst for the shameless
and cursed by our lust.
And in then ninety-nine,
one year before,
the best Pet Shop Boys
had also explored…
I didn’t remember
or I didn’t care
that vampire boys
already compared
to men doing things
to men in the dark,
he tasted my blood
and then stole my heart.
On November 8 of 2026
I will be fifty-two
and remember the kiss;
remember the blood,
the cum and the piss
shared with a man when I was twenty-six.
On November 8 of 2026
I will be fifty-two…
The B-52s?
I will be fifty-two…
twenty-six times two.
Written by Jason Wright
March 21, 2026