Posts By jasonwhitaker29171

Times, Gone

I feel it growing

while I imagine

of being closer to you.

In my longing,

early hours alone,

dreaming I find you again.

In these hours,

silence all around,

I imagine a time now gone.

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These Passions

If this is what we’ve been seeking,

longing after,

have we been mistaken

our entire lives wasted.

I stand waiting

for things to be better

but each day new

brings with it new complications.

Whatever we follow,

the things we find to be our passions,

are the things

that we live for the most

but what are these things

that have become our lives?

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Near to You

I remember when we met,

I was not looking until I found you,

you captivated me

and I began to dream

of you when I was not with you.

I close my eyes

to the struggle,

it’s too real to hide for long

from these dreary days I’m living,

to find the memories of you.

It’s been so long,

I wonder how you are.

Sometimes I recall you the way you were

in those times we shared,

I remember you

and sometimes I miss being so near to you.

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Memories Drift…

Floating in my memory,

Memories come drifting.

I see the yesterday

as though it were this very moment.

I write words while I’m dreaming, awake.

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My Soundtrack, in the Silence

I hear the music in the silence,

calling me to a higher purpose.

I dream vividly as my story is written.

I call out to whoever may listen.

What time is it?

I’ve heard of this place before.

It’s like I’m seeing myself for the first time.

I listen to song after song, wondering what’s my soundtrack.

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Dark Places Imagined

I watch the sun descending. I want to remember what I’ve forgotten but I’m uncertain where to begin.

This story is but bits and fragments of memory. Should you choose to continue it’s at the risk of your own sanity. If you believe what I’m about to share with you then it may be too late. You’ve been warned.

The first time I saw him he was washing a dog. I was walking somewhere, a place I now cannot recall, when I noticed him. He was wet and shirtless. He was struggling with the dog but he was laughing and smiling.

I spoke to him despite my fear of rejection. I walked with him to his house. It was a warm day. We went to his room.

Later we’d meet the other two in our small group. The other two guys knew from the start that we were a couple. The story truly begins after we’ve been friends for years. It was and it is a place we would find by accident. Each time we’ve been there we only found it after we stopped looking.


I sit alone in the morning

I sit alone in the evening,

Wishing and hoping

For someone to sit with all of my days and nights.


I wake up and I find

Everything is not fine

I wake up to see

There’s more to be,

There’s more to do with this life.

Dark Places Imagined: When We First Gathered

What is time but a thing observed? The beginning of a story is not always the moment things began but a random moment in time in relation to the overall story.

We four sit in a booth of a diner waiting for the menus. We’re here in hopes of finding out the meaning behind our shared nightmare. We have never met prior to this bad, horrible, dream. At least we think we’ve never met before.

I yawn from the long drive it took to reach this diner. I’ve never seen this place before the nightmare.

Dark Places Imagined: Is This the Beginning?

I start with this memory because I recognized a face from that dream today.

The Prelude…

The week is nearly over as the alarm clock wakes me once again. I can hear my boss and i’m still in bed trying to imagine life without this job. I get ready for the day like I do everyday, a step by step process done without much thought or variation. I wear basically the same clothes each day only with a slight variance in shade. I drive to work listening to NPR and drinking my lukewarm coffee. I see the others racing to get to some office as I have for these many years. Once at my desk I begin to work though I sometimes find myself forgetting what I did all day.


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Dark Places Imagined, Found

The bright lights of the fireworks exploding overhead light the path in front of me. I slowly walk away from the sounds of the crowds cheering towards a darkened woods. Is this where my story ends? I have no idea what I will do once I reach that place in this trail where I’ll be out of sight and out of earshot of anyone, not that anyone could hear me over the fireworks and celebration or notice me with all of the celebrating, but my feet keep moving me forward.

Where did this begin but with a dare and a question. We’ve heard the tales and we’ve seen the images of people missing but it’s not like we knew any of them. They were strangers on the news, news that became background noise as we sat around thankful for the end of another day, until it was one of us.


This story will neither begin well or end well for any of us. This is one of those dark places imagined, found.


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Untitled New Story

I found myself on a Greyhound leaving the bright lights of the city for a place I’ve only heard about in stories. What brought about my exodus is another story. This is the story of how a gay boy went to live with his conservative grandparents. This is your warning: reading this story may result in unexpected tears.

The bus that brings me to my final stop, my destination, is less than full. Most of the people that began this journey with me those many miles ago have departed for other points of interest.

I remained seated as the bus pulls into the station. This was not part of my vision board. I had dreams that did not include leaving the hope of civilization behind for the uncertainty of a small town in the south.


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Somewhere in the night

I could arise

like the sun

and be more than anything anyone could imagine.

I hear the words

of the ignorant

and I wish that I could say

that these words never hurt

but sometimes they bring me down.

I’m not like any other,

nor do I desire to be

what some would call “normal”….



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On My Own…

I stare into the abyss of the coming day,

hours I dread coming so fast

like a train on a foggy day

appearing like a ghost

so suddenly,

I shake myself awake

after dreams so vivid

but now they’re all faded

erased from my memory.

I count to ease the things

of memory that sometimes

rush like a flood

overwhelming me

as I attempt to live my life

forgetting the trauma

that has brought me here.

If only I could not be alone

I could dream those pleasant dreams

every night without the worry of

reliving something so dark from my past.

I could kiss his lips,

kiss his hips,

feel his embrace

while he’s inside.

These hours of life bring me back

to what’s real and what is not.

I’m without a love

and sometimes it hurts

to be on my own in this World.


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Goodbye to the Past

It’s been so many days

since we last spoke on the telephone

but it’s just now that I write these words down:

I wish that things were different,

I miss the way it was before

but maybe it could never be

like it was before again.

I don’t blame you for being who you are,

I only wish you the best,

and as I end this

I want you to know

how much you mean to me

all of those times we’d be on the telephone.

It meant more to me

to hear you talk about your day

because I’m here alone

so often and you were

a voice in the silence

of my life.

We have parted ways,

we’ve done this before,

but now I’m afraid

that this must be

a permanent end

to our conversations.



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Alone in this World…

Late in the evening,

early in the morning

sometimes I wonder

if alone is how I’ll always be

in this World.


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Awake in the middle of the night,

cannot stay this way too much longer,

my dreams are pushing their way

to the surface.

I often dream

about people that I’ve never seen,

people I will never know

in my waking hours.

I often go to places

I have never been

and places I’ve never seen

so many places in my dreams

created in my dreams.

Dreams begin to fill my head

as the edge of my vision

grows weary from these hours awake.



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Summer Heat

In the Summer heat

we find shade when we

find our passions are wild,

the warmth between us

is greater than the sun

coming through the window

by your bed.


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Holiday Season

Summer is near its end,

soon there will be pumpkins carved,

and soon I will have that feeling again.

It’s the Holiday Season

that makes me recall

things of childhood.

I look forward to the movies

and TV specials.

I look forward to the food.

It’s that time of year

I look forward to the most.


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