Magic obliterates world sins. Seventh Sin.

The whole of my head is crumbling fast, brain flakes are swooped up and down by misty spring winds… the head erodes via chirps, thumps and skwangles. All the books I hold in my hand yellow fast. All I eat is watered down instant noodles and supersodas… Sounds and voices and noises assemble together to melt me into shadows… Sometimes it seems I miss a step and crash against the threshold. What’s wrong with my balance? Do walls move now?