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.
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.
Their eyes sought me out cross the waiting room floor… Their gaze drifted down to the demon adored… Their feet and their legs brought them quick as you please… and I barely kept up from off of my knees.
Hot Doctor Craig and Doctor Antell approach me and coach me on living so well…
They compliment garment and offer me sex behind my closed eyes as they search for who’s next.
The shirt that I wore from Party That Wasn’t / Middle-Earth shirt worn by someone who doesn’t exist or persist in interest of others… I barely seek to or speak to my brothers who once stripped for me in convent abandoned… this clothing’s been holding me; constant companion.
It’s Nina who sings to me blissed through my tears… who aids and then fades to me kissed through my fears… as music comes up and and asks with a twirl:
A demon to some… could I be your girl?
Written by Jason Wright October 9, 2018
For Antell & Arden, Simone & Barker, & the lovers that we never were.
In 9 days it will be 17 years from the night we first met.
And though you discarded me in a mostly cruel and senseless fashion I still write & think of you often.
Some of the words I write are angry, hurt, longing or strange…
And though I’m PROUD that I refused to chase someone who chose to run away from me and our truth I miss YOU more than any other pain that you have caused me.
Written by Jason Wright October 9, 2018
For Mobley Mouse, for Theodore and all the other names I’ve come to call you.
Whispering in my ears in a memory I never had, because I never heard you but you sounded sad… and the words that you spoke were like singing beneath the sound of your breath and our rhythmic heartbeats, and the song found me dreaming of a man that I follow… lost in the depths unbelieving and hollow.
The day that you caught me without saying much, The way that you haunted me there with a touch that I couldn’t feel save the dream of your sorrow… that came to be real come the gleam of tomorrow.
But you stayed with me singing and circled around… You gave me the bringing and brought me your crown… You lingered behind me when others had left… You whispered and signed me; you loved me to death.
But that’s not the end of our ghostly tale… For you proved a friend and mostly prevailed when I circled round you and found you still smiling… I knew you were there with your stare so beguiling.
Experiment #001 is blonde, purely fictional, musical and a deeply hungry bottom.
Nothing wrong with that.
He has broken no laws and this investigator finds that he has shattered no expectations; we have a pretty low bar here.
He arrives promptly for down low dirty sort of movie watching, needing and twitching to satisfy carnal cravings for satisfying chemical sex.
He inhales Jungle Juice like it’s an oxygen tank, allowing him to swim through seas of endlessly horny barebackers while never returning to (and never delivering more than) the shiny deceptive surface.
He forgets why he is there and must be reminded that he will not be taking multiple cocks at once during this session; an apparent rarity for him: how quaint.
He says he feels sorry for the “drunken dickless loser faggot” and wishes for his inclusion… be it from actual decency or merely his endless thirst… a question that is never truly answered.
His sorrow does not prevent him from wolfing down various white substances, although this investigator suspects he may never return to the scene of this non-crime, as even thusly fed, he appeared to be suffering from withdrawal.
Recommendation:
Suspension of Experiment #001 until such time as he is recaptured. Until such time as he rejoins the other experiments we must find new test subjects.
Our mission is crucial and must not be circumvented.
