I don’t believe in writer’s block.
It sounds too permanent.
It seems like a literal thought-ailing obstacle.
It feels like a death sentence.
It smells like superglue, and tastes like chalk.
I believe in writer’s fog.
It sounds vacant.
It seems like a figurative drawback.
It feels like hydroplaning, a lapse.
It smells like a peripheral garden, and tastes like patience.