When your head is reeling through millions of starways, you're drunk on allusions and wordplay, lost in the corridors of meaning and happenstance, words flow together and transpose and garner new affixed references bleeding down the walls into the underbelly of the basement structure, your eyes peel back and see a glowing figure down beneath and faraway and haunting in the reaches down the end of that vast labyrinth corridor...it is She, the One. The light and the fury. Lady Infictive who guides you on this most awesome of all trips into consciousness or lack thereof.
You know her by the tinkling of bells and the spicy feeling in your groin; the saffron color of her many majestic naked breasts and the extremely large and immodest phallus growing from her plentiful belly.