Nergburglr: revised

You know ink. Not ball point pen ink, true ink. Quills and brushes and deep sea, that ink.
Take that and add water, but the most blue-black, deepest, coldest water you can imagine.
Let it hang. In air. In space.
Make your own physics. It will act as you want.
And it slowly but fiercely descends on you. Clinging and binding like a soaked towel.


I had plans, things I was going to write, stuff I was going to say, foods I was going to eat.
I did some of them, till it became so hard to focus.
I wrote some homework, but the words weren't mine.
I planned what to say, and walked by in silence.
I looked, then had a sandwich.

It got really difficult. Like when Daniel in theater class would have us walk around as if in syrup.
We would go on mining how it would resist out movement and stick us to one spot. Everything feels like real life that. A too heavy comforter. Both comfortable and strangling.