Journal entries scrawled in black ink,
smeared by rainfall,
as only a fool would write outside

Only a fool would get glowstick gel
on his hands

I found a plastic fish that's meant to
go on my keychain; I lost
my keychain in the summer of '07

It's been too long since I've really been alone
and I'm tasting it again

It's salt on my fingertips
It's words I can't vocalize
Carnal
Primal
Dead