Block

I’ve hit a wall

The well is dry

And the bag’s empty

Lackluster letters

Strung haphazardly together

Won’t pay me much

I won’t pay them mind

Leave them behind

Expressions of a ghostwriter

Never seemed hard

I didn’t do too much

Came straight from the heart

On a natural compellation

An innate inclination

But with the faintest mutter of thunder

These days clearly seem numbered

It’s just not what it was before

Doesn’t feel fulfilling anymore

A whimsical indulgence

That I can never master

Which half of the time

Amounts to a disaster

Another cliché throwaway

It’s slipping off the track

I’ve hit another block

And maybe it won’t come back