I feel a strange pall overtake the scene, a mist flowing freely across the land. I am walking through a veil, unable to see the ground, and I can barely breathe.
The world is dying in slow motion. I can feel it in my bones. I think I have bones, anyway. I'm not quite sure.
I am adrift now, floating through a sea of mindless faces who gibber and scream twisted words into a hazy sky clouded with fear. The noise is growing in intensity, reaching a fever pitch that hurts the mind. We are a thousand, nay, a million lemmings rushing to oblivion, and we are welcoming it into our souls.
Today I learned I was born too late. The world's minds are closing fast, clams at the low tide. The activist's preaching to the choir now, they know the truth. We are a million-billion tight-minded lemmings, and we are welcoming the death and decay.
I see this around me, through displays of idiocy that rival those of the Demon Sultan Azathoth. The mad drums and wailing pipes it writhes to in the darkness, we have our own, taking form as Justin Bieber, Fox News and their ilk. 'Tis no wonder the luck has left the world.
Again and again I try to wake from this horrid dream to no avail. There is no one there to shake me from slumber, to wake me. I am alone, horribly and terribly alone in this waking nightmare.