WriterBlock

Writer's block
...
I sit along its corner
and watch creativity flow
from poets lips freely
...
yet
...
I never
speak
...
I've become
mute
...
silenced
against my will
...
unable to mouth
my emotions clearly
...
and
it hurts
...
my inspiration
no longer wishes
to inspire
...
he rather watch
bodies perspire
...
*sigh*
...
so like a voyeur
I watch from afar
as others fondle metaphors
in fingertips
fingering sticky keys
to ejaculate masterpieces
while I try hard
just to master a piece
...
I wish
I could paint
in living color
swirling vibrant hues
into beautiful context
leaving only clues
on how to blend scattered thoughts
into concepts that break the everyday mold
but as long as I reside on Writer's Block
all of that has been placed on hold