On a High

tongue

I was on a dangerous sugar high. I was flying. I was up there in the stratosphere. I was dizzy with it. My nerves were vibrating with it. My whole body was shaking with it…

 

Gravity had lost its grip on me and I was out there, really out there. I’d never been out there like this before. I had reached escape velocity and nothing was going to bring me back down again. Or so it seemed to me as the high built up and up to its glorious climax…

 

The opulent currency of my euphoric thoughts cascaded through me like an unending stream of golden coins. Saccharine sweet, I licked them in passing and then quickly moved on, keen to taste the next batch of freshly minted euphoric thoughts! They came so quickly I could hardly keep up with them. Effervescing up like an explosively fizzy drink, like a can of coke that has been shaken up to the very limit.

 

My thoughts were a blur – you could hardly follow them. My mind was a blur, like a high-speed sewing machine. God knows what I was sewing – I wasn’t really keeping up with it. It was running away with me. The garment was all around me – opulent beyond comparison, richly embroidered and covered with brocade of sparkling sequins. It was a garment fit for a king and it was all mine…

 

I was in love with these euphoric thoughts. I was intoxicated with their sumptuously opulent glamour. These thoughts were like impossibly expensive confectionary to me. The finest Belgian truffles. Each and every thought was like a Magnum ice-cream straight out of the fridge on a hot summer’s day! I was licking them and licking them. I was licking them and licking them and licking them. I was licking them so fast you couldn’t see my tongue move. It was like a little pink blur. Lick, lick, lick. Wow, wow, wow. So great. So tasty. Licking the lovely euphoric thoughts. Licking them as they went by. Lovely, lovely, lovely. Licking them as fast as I could. Barely finding time to give each wonderful thought a little feverish excited lick as it passed me by…

 

So I licked and I licked and I licked. I licked at all the lovely exciting glamorous thoughts as they went by. The wonderful wonderful glamourous thoughts. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick, lick, lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick.

 

Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick, lick, lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick.

 

And then my tongue grew tired. Tired from all the licking. Tired from licking so feverishly. And all of a sudden a deadly fatigue fell upon me. It settled into my bones. As soon as it touched me I knew I was done for. The world grew black in an instant. The opulent glory of my garment turned into stinking rags and the filthy sordid stink of them proclaimed my unclean state to the world. The unholy stench of them. Oozing black infectious pus.

 

The richly scented embroidered brocade that I had been wearing turned instantly into a cloak of grinning diabolical skull-masks. Draped upon me like a shroud. Its theme echoing my inner decay. Mocking me. Reminding me that I was a walking corpse. A hollow man. A very thin man, a supremely thin man. A cartoon character, covered by a thin veneer of denial which was rapidly cracking like old varnish under the strain of trying to say that it wasn’t true, that this wasn’t happening, wasn’t happening, wasn’t happening…

 

Then all the thoughts came back, travelling the other way. And they weren’t wonderfully glamorous, richly sumptuous thrillingly intoxicating euphoric thoughts any more. They were dysphoric thoughts, tasting of the grave.

 

These were black thoughts, tasting of death and decay. Tasting of the macabre scrapings of the tomb world. Tasting of unclean things – the unclean contents of the whitewashed sepulchre. Tasting of the horror of corruption. Crumbling into choking dust in my mouth. Like a mummy’s fingers. Clawing their way down my throat. Choking me.

 

This is what the black thoughts were like. They were an endless stream. They were a river of pollution. Each black thought was a veritable horror in its own right.

 

And I had to lick them all as they went by….

 

 

 

 

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