the radon files

Queers We Have to Mourn Our Childhoods From Hell Just as middle class white suburban straight society could not see me I now being middle class and in their midst Cannot see my pain either.

A moment of silence for the way my mother and suburbia and then my father turned me against myself.

I take my own wounds seriously They ask me to speak for them No one can tell me that I am not who I say I am. They can make me believe it for a time But I wake, I rise. Heterosexuals do you understand the mindfuck that was done to queer people That were were hynotized into thinking we felt things that we did not That we were people we are not, And now we still wonder. The brink of that wonder, sitting on the that brink Is hell. No one was there to see the pain. Can they even see it now? What volumes we carry within us. Little boy didn't know a sword was there always at his waste. Always heroic is the truth. Always a hero, nothing less.

She woke and no one was ever there. She had no one asking for her, nothing pulling her anywhere And for that, she could cry Obligation was poison She struggled and suffered against the weariness The cold folding moments around her. She struggled against them to float To buoy up Aimlessness assaulted her and she could hear in her head all the things that never happened Never could, never did. Until they are here, I will not be able to rest She had lost a family but it was a family she never had They haunted her like ghosts She didn't want it, she didn't want to toxins That toxic narcissism, the lies, walking through the spikes again But with the baby left the bathwater And she was cold Here longing to be immersed in warm water. It taunted her. Yes it was as though everyone had left now she was stranded in some other land She could neither go back Nor live here alone In a past life, she lost her children, her family It was painfully unfair She could f...

Does pain ever go? Healing is a narrative of moving on, letting go. Of finding the thing and thus the thing will be changed, will be rewoven into some other fabric. And with trauma, they say, this is where the repetition happens. The repetitions are because you are not healed. Are they? Pain arises again and it is just exactly the same as it always was. And she thinks: I have no moved. And she becomes upset in that. Can't she hold it? Can't she love it enough to change it, to remember it differently, to reroute herself from this early pain, this regression. And no. Dark things fall over this life. She grew up with people expecting to have a schedule and a direction. She grew up with her parents making plans and being logical. No one stayed in bed and stared at the wall through the afternoon. Why does having no agenda feel Too much Last night her student had this feeling that emotions need a direction some time, that to have no action on them, no direction or narra...

I thought it left me but it hadn't. Understand what force is. Force is both the prison industrial complex....and also us any time that we force. And the way we think we can force. Or force ourselves. What are we locking away unjustly? The subtle walk between force and what is simply there. This is the relation of your life. This is the dichotomy, the atlas of your heart. Two nations....or maybe one nation denying the presence of the other. One race denying the presence of the other. We repeat it here and now. It will resound until eternity. And will it even be refracted? Or just the same sound in our ears. In your head. Zombie.