I am making words in my mind. Lots and lots of words. Succulent words. Turning them over and over slowly, savouring them. It’s kind of what i do. I am appreciating the texture of them – are they crumbly, are they dry and gritty or are they moist and slightly tacky. Lots and lots of different words – all sorts of words. Words, words, words. All these lovely words. Magical words. Saying them to myself over and over again. Enjoying them. Playing around with them. Some are juicy and sweet, others dry and savoury. I love them all. Yummy words. Nummy yummy words. I can’t get enough. Yummy yummy yummy. I love them. They’re SO yummy. SO rich and succulent. The saliva is running down my chin now, dribbling down onto my stomach. Making puddles there. Sticky puddles. Sticky puddles gathering. Whole aquatic ecosystems, complete with macrophytes and dinoflagellates. Zoophytes too – a burgeoning bloom of frisky little zoophytes. Evolving forms. Life recapitulates itself. Lots and lots of semi-saline waterways. Interconnected pond systems with a rapidly proliferating algal biomass. But all I can think about are the words that I am making for myself. The yummy yummy words. Words like intricately decorated fairy cakes. But then the next thing is that the words are turning bad. They are mocking me, jeering at me. They resound in my head like clashing cymbals. Clash, clash, clash go the cymbals. It’s a punishment for me. The words have now taken on a malignant, mendacious nature. These are harshly judgemental words, cruelly derisory words. These are words that hurt, words that wound, words that torment. ‘Why?’ I ask, ‘Why does it always have to be these way?’