It was too sweet. A kind of "scraping your tongue against your teeth" sweetness. The taste almost had its own texture purely from the strength of the flavour; a sticky gooeyness that stemmed from one's mouth's desperate attempt to rid the ode to sugar with a flood of saliva.
The light has its own halo. Amid the dark of the night, it shines an aura across one's vision. Needle thin fingers reaching out from the origin, trying to overcome the blackness that surrounds it. Multiple strands scatter their way across the space, blinding and overwhelming.