block(ing)

really original huh? a poem about writers block. but I can't help it really it came to me when nothing else would usually the words come quickly spilling from my fingers bypassing my brain entirely. the originality continues. I blame the computer. A big white block, and smaller ones on the keyboard standing in the way of my thoughts when it is paper, not a computer, the words can flow through the pencil like liquid through a straw sweetness. flowing from cup to tongue from fingers to paper muted by a smooth glass and crumbling graphite instead of harshly illuminated by a screen's glare Don't you just love overused metaphors? Don't you just love that oh-so-overused topic of writer's block? That comes to you blocking . out . everything . else.