A Completely Nonexistent Carnival

He refuses to leave his house. The ramen boxes are piling up. Bong water seeps into the floors. He has forgotten how it feels to touch another person. Paranoia peaks as reality dissolves, as eyes turn to shredded gelatin and we are consumed whole by the shadow of every person who has ever lived. Rats dance about the kitchen. Sharks infest the bath tub. Ducks and deer are lured into a living room where the TV has gone static. And his brain has gone static. The medicine has stopped working. And, if you listen closely, you can hear carnival music leaking from his eyes and ears and mouth.