I used to own a pet called Nurg.
I quite liked Nurg;
a golden retriever with a furry nose.
I used to have a friend called Nurg,
who cheered me up when I was down,
and made me laugh when I felt like crap;
But then something odd happened and we never talked again.
I used to know a person called Nurg.
I went to school when I was young,
I went to study on and live apart;
This Nurg had been someone I didn’t quite like
and didn’t quite hate,
But somehow it verged on the side of dislike.
And if I speak of latters here,
no doubt it’ll not make sense;
for all I really mean is that things get worse
as life goes on and really become quite dense.
I used to say the word a lot.
I used to worry like a wart about certain things
and then, “Nurg” would make me laugh.
I felt like a child when someone cussed,
I had no words of my own.
For they used the same words over and over as if to say
it was theirs.
I held my breath and spoke under it,
“Nurg, nurg, nurg”.
Be it jealousy, envy,
anger or hate,
love or like,
sympathy or empathy.
I used to feel something a lot like Nurg.
When I think of my pet,
when I think of my friend,
when I think of that person (you might as well call an enemy),
when I think of that word.
I feel the Nurg.
My stream of consciousness leads me to believe
that Nurg will always be:
The pathetic unknown people that sit and surround me,
Those I never knew and never will –
stray with unfamiliarity and shall never keep still,
he, him. her,
Nurg will always lead me to believe.
That one who is here for a certain amount of time,
shall disappear in Nurg’s present line.
So nay goodbye, as I look out this window.
What do I believe in now?
That Nurg had always led me, good or bad somehow;
It taught me in some way,
I felt a little better every day,
There would never really be a time or place that Nurg would never stay.