It's been three days since you've last slept.
There's a slot machine in your living room. You don't remember bringing it here, but it fits well in the composition and its faint music soothes your nerves. Maybe you can live with it.
You turn on your PC and open the browser, but you don't recognize your favorite site. You reach to close the tab, but there's no close button. It opens a video of CGI kittens telling you about a self-help book. You can't find the price listed anywhere. You press Order Now. It doesn't ask for an address.
The mailman comes in 5 minutes later. His hand is dry and cold. Too cold, you realize. You sign in red ink and send him on his way.
You're hungry. You devour the package, leaving torn pieces on the floor. On the cover, you read the words: "You can't put it down!" You open the book. It speaks to the innermost compartments of your soul, like none of your lovers ever could. It hurts, but you can't stop reading.
You go to your computer to type a post in a cry for help, but the words don't feel right, they swirl and change, they're telling you to raise a kpop baby. It's a good investment, flips for up to 1000% on ebay.
You reach for the power outlet and pull the plug. A thin string of silky liquid connects it to the holes like in a bizzare robot porn. The holes dilate and start oozing something sticky, covering the floor, the liquid comes alive and rearranges itself into letters. "CAPITALIZM", it says. You plug the holes with your fingers and realize you can't feel your hand. "CAPITALIZM", you hear a distant roar, a thousand voices singing in unison.
