my heart
distills
my blood
heliotrope
looking
for a sun
a plantation
of hateful
verdigris
factors
out to
go flow
out
big
star not
too far
from
severance
runs
rampant
over my
tripartite
welcome
parse
the light
hiding
from the
guards
foiling
the crowds
out in
the rain

“My journals are not written for others, nor do I usually look at them myself, but they are a special, indispensable form of talking to myself.”

— Oliver Sacks