He fell to his knees, suddenly uncertain of his surroundings. Everything seemed… not blurry, but just… inconsistent. He was aware of a dull, throbbing pain at the back of his head. He touched it and was rewarded with a sharpness, like needles in his skull.

He looked at his hand. It was covered in blood, which turned to flowers and blew away in the wind.

He was vaguely aware that the world around him was beginning to melt, dissolving like sugar in the rain. He looked at his hands again. He could see them, he could just about feel them, but they weren’t his hands anymore.

He felt like he had a valve on the back of his head, the kind you find on inflatable pool toys. It felt like everything inside of him was escaping through it. He couldn’t muster the strength to stand, to fight, to live. His world no longer made sense. Everything was melting, spinning, wrong. he felt like he was living in an Etch-A-Sketch drawing left out in the snow.

His strength depleted, he fell to the ground and turned into a song.