Changes

I can't predict the changes within my head.

One day it's hopelessness the next day it's knowing you're alone so much.

At home growing the craft of not knowing if this craft is a hole or not.

Empty with no one to know if there is a soul or not.

I'm preaching on the surface with the intention to release myself from this service.

When I was taking on a ride to the inner circus.

Surplus of words as such with terms to touch, of verbs to rub when I learnt to erupt with an absurd unheard transfer of words and stuff.

It's a strange world like today's hurl, unpredictable was the day's unforgettable array of winter.