Before something like deviance can be legislated against, before people can
be sterilized or deported or institutionalized, something like Normal has to
be defined. The data has gate keepers. I’m starting to understand, like
 
a soar of sky after hiking for hours. Like the high ceiling in the main
lobby of the Natural History Museum. Like the scored edges of a cloud.
The panic
 
of something deafeningly unknowable.
 
Phrenology is dismissed as quackery. You can’t tell a criminal by the size of their skull, that’s fucking preposterous.
 
Some people are shot dead in the skull and the killer gets a million dollars.
 
The institution is very Normal. The audience is very Normal. The fear is
very Normal. I am a weirdo NDN faggot. I am incapable of making
anything worthy of this audience. In the room the people come and go. In
the room I realize I never left the room. I see my shoulders in the drawers,
my face in the file folders, my body pinned and writhing on the board.
 
This pain is not an equivocation, but a reminder to keep living
 
keep living
 
keep living
 
Ppl say never look back but I don’t have a choice. Sometimes the back is all
I have. From this point on land, it’s very hard to see the water.