Sometimes lines bend in ways they're not supposed to. The sky will turn pale purple and I'll wonder if I'm so weak minded that the drugs have permanently taken hold of my brain because I'm sober. Something small and fast will scurry across the floor, but my reflexes are too slow to make out a shape. A muffled argument echoes in another room so I turn up the TV as I think, "Jesus Christ, I'm losing my mind."
It started with sweeping blue lights and turned into a world of movements that are just out of my direct line of sight.