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A poem which shows the value of poetry to letting the mind run free.

There's an outline around the unseeable—the temptation to lick it, knowing it's like the inside of the freezer wall. The lure, being the spilled ice lolly looking flavoursome, is insane. You wouldn't do it twice, nor would you have the opportunity.

So resist—that's where we are at. Do not take comfort in how slow we are talking; that's not a means of escape. Imagine your tongue is welded from the inside out to the freezer—your ability to counter, gone.

People with lesser intellect (questionable—you have your tongue on a freezer wall) come along and turn it off; you wait. Others get all "very enormous turnip" vibes and pull—yet you are attached from the inside out. Whether the freezer surrounds you or you surround the freezer (inverted death - tangent worth exploring), I think you still lose. We'll leave that as an open question.

Perhaps warm water saves us all, or warm skin, or the sacrifice of something else substituting for your layers of tongue molecule by molecule. Shouting for help is so ridiculous—proximity of your face to a void that captures sound while simultaneously distorting any attempt so it is already unintelligible is funny, really. It's all so objectively pointless.

And if you were left there, you'd remain in a kind of stasis until you degraded—an alternate ending. You look the same but fade to grey (and become flavourless, but never mind that bit).

It's safe to say I'm not a scientist, but I have experienced a very dangerous Vimto lolly spillage. I got out alive too—or so I believe. If I didn't, then it's still 1983, and I've invented the internet, created fast trains, discontinued Concorde, and imagined cosmetic surgery where faces are frozen and lips are massive. It sounds quite possible when you keep a theory going...

Time stops, and infinite realities play out in the minds of the stuck. Maybe someone taps in, steals the interesting ones (I'm disappointed someone used their slow death to dream up factory farming if that's the case).

And there is no other side for the licker - just the thoughts get immortality.

As you can see, with thinking harnessed or free range —we're kind of doomed.

NB: it was supposed to be about black holes but I got side tracked on line two.
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