A profoundly simple change has overcome me. 

My shedding skin clings and calls itself deterioration; a plague of foolish youth. Am I a dreamer or simply harmonious? The ghostly predator opens its knitted jaws again to engulf me in needy intellect.  

She is hotly surreal though I have left her back alleys. Where I find myself, I cannot say but it is certainly among people. The honest man’s plague is desperation.