some days are easier than others. the realization that new york is still new york and that these cycles are repeating hurts and stings closer to home each day. also feeds the idea that there is still shit to hope for, an ability to move forward- this fucked up bronx living is still just a test.
i need some thoughts on this... so let me know:
when i was little i had recurring nightmares that involved syringes and the arms of people crying and melting back into the earth. finding peace through transcending the broken poisoned bodies they were forced into and trapped in. while i slept, these nightmares threatened coming closer and closer until i was almost positive that i was the only one who hadn't been pierced- but the clock ticked closer and i was scared to grow a second older for fear that it would then be my time.
when i was awake, i looked out the peephole to images that seemed straight out of my imagination. beautiful young brown women and men in the building who grew up and raised kids and ended up on the stairwell with a needle in their arm, sunken eyes, chipped teethed, and the bitter aftertaste of apologizing to all the passers-by for disrespecting our homes and kids. sometimes when i walk in here to visit mom i have that bitter aftertaste forced in MY mouth because i am embarassed by exactly how queer and out of place i have evolved to be. and then i breathe and remember that my queerness is beauty and i try to swallow the taste down, make it disappear.
yesterday i had the dream again.
a lot of the time i realize that the way drugs have taken over our lives, economies, genocide, moves closer and closer to me every day. yesterday i sat silent trying to learn how to pray again. the most beautiful and important boy in my life. i don't ever want to find him laying in the stairwell with that needle in his arm for the last time.
take a long nap. we're gonna need every ounce of strength we can gather in order to move even one step further. my bones feel hollow without you.
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