The Boy in Orange – BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG

October 16, 2026

The Truth of Us Fucking

He was six years younger
and I fell for him hard.

He filled me with wonder
and then left me scarred.

I slept as a slave;
the forever unsure.

As I wept at the grave
of whatever we were.

I could not attack,
or heal or breakthrough…

So brought himself back
to reveal what I knew,

What I couldn’t acquit
in spite of his touch,

I couldn’t admit
and refused insomuch,

In light of the osseous
friction begun

in spite of the obvious
fiction I’d spun

The youth turned to dust
as his song quelled aggression,

The truth of my lust
and my long held obsession.

He took me astride
and he rode me / revealed…

He took me inside
and showed me what’s real…

He stared
as he sheathed me…

Was there then
beneath me…

Then turned himself round
with his face to the floor.

Asked me to enter,
return to his center,

He burned the bed down:
all I’d wanted and more.

But the truth is
this action
is not what I needed.

My truth is
distraction
could not have succeeded.

The truth is
I wanted
what I gave away.

And with truth
he responded
and so showed me the way.

In the clash in the fire
that is always the present,

In the ash of desire
we part with affection,

In “now” that was “then”
we were not brokenhearted,

Won’t do this again
and we’ll always be parted.

Written by Jason Wright
October 16, 2026

For Shawn Foreman,
who I haven’t seen in over 15 years.

March 19, 2018April 12, 2026

State of Independence Part IV

New location for
poetic censorship is discovered
days after Facebook nudes
are similarly desecrated…
Artists MUST be mad!

I think of Sour Girl Shawn
as I pull on Stone Temple Pilots
and walk to the train
on my journey to Brooklyn.

I bring tracks from CD #3
and Mood Swings sing me to poetry
between 168th & 145th.

I can’t remember
attraction to Boy in Orange;
attraction died ages ago
without my notice…
Still nice to see him if I’m ever so lucky.

Scribbler illustrates the back of my mind
as I tunnel through Manhattan
to deal with angry humiliating disappointment
which I refuse to surrender to
despite the temptation to ralph
on the sidewalks of NYC.

Written by Jason Wright
March 19, 2018

September 27, 2017April 10, 2026

Drunken Scribbles After Midnight

Flash on subway
shooting by green / blue couple
and I know that moment
from years before – – is that me?

Is that watercolor smear
a glimpse of my past?

But I don’t know him
and I never looked like the other guy.

Smashing Pumpkins want to stand inside my love.

People have told me I look like Billy Corgan.
Might as well say I look like Humpty Dumpty.
I couldn’t ever be put together that way…
even if all the queen’s studs rode me
for 16 hours straight.

You, sitting next to me:

KEEP READING WHAT I WRITE!
IT AMUSES ME. 🙂

Other song was used
in video of my making,
much to the outrage of a certain Boy in Orange…

I don’t even know the title and it’s on my fucking playlist.

I’d had a nightmare about concentration camps
with this for a soundtrack,
and I don’t even remember that dream anymore
so the song is free to be itself at last.

Drunk trans woman laughs at what I write;
you are no mystery to me and you need not
scream at the others, begging to be fisted.

Nice to meet you Billie. (I transcribe)

Do you only love yourself
when you drink?

Written by Jason Wright
September 27, 2017

May 6, 2000May 8, 2026

OUT IN THE OPEN

·We danced Friday night
to that Friday night music –

The passion was there
but I chose to refuse it –

The sobering sight
of the children & their pride –

The heat & the night
drew us all out from inside.

The girl by my side
& the others who knew me –

They all made me smile
& they all saw right through me –

They all knew my weakness
for people & laughter –

They all knew I wanted
the boy who came after:

The boy dressed in orange.
The candy: raspberry.
His friends were delicious.
His laughter was cherry.
Our goodbye was a smile.
The night was colossal.

I always find joy
when I’m profoundly hostile.

Written by Jason Wright
May 6, 2000

For Melissa, Lee C, M.V., Maggie, Laurie, & Dawn,
but mostly for Shawn – who’s reply made me smile.

Edit:

The artwork was meant to replicate the traffic that night in Ann Arbor. The above version is an expanded view of the original, which I’ll share here:

Melissa was a girl that my then roommate and ex-bf Mark Adams was trying to date. I drove us to the bar after getting food and stopping at a bank.

Lee C & M.V. were men I knew from online on GAY DOT COM (remember when that was a thing?), and though our paths crossed a couple of times, I never knew their full names, so I don’t know what ever became of them.

I met Shawn Foreman that night, along with Maggie Ernst, Laurie Prater and their friend Dawn. I dated Shawn and I was in love with him for years. That night he had noticed the scars on my wrists which endeared him to me right away, but I was pretty bitchy, even as I was trying flirt with him and he called me (with some affection) “profoundly hostile”. When he read this poem he reevaluated his opinion of me. We dated briefly, but intensely. We later hooked up a couple of more times over the years. And I last saw him in person in October of 2011, just 21 days before I met my partner, Aaron Sanko. But he and I still trade messages now and again.

Maggie became a close friend but I later learned she was a compulsive liar, to me and about me. I dropped her on the spot, which was quite painful. I think Dawn visited me once with Maggie but I vaguely remember her and I hashing it out over gay rights and religious bullshit, which I believe ended with me calling her “a pathetic Jesus Licker”, which seemed to offend her at least as much as I’d hoped that it would and she never spoke to me again – which I considered mission accomplished – good riddance. Laurie is simply one of the most remarkable people I’ve ever met and we still trade messages occasionally – I last saw her in person at a Michigan theater in July of 2021.

Jason (05-08-26)