Writer's Block

I am not a square But I live in a cube It’s called writer’s block And the rent is very high And the landlord very mean. The ceiling leaks sometimes Drops of fractured Sentences and gushes Of misbegotten Nouns and homeless Verbs and occasionally Delusional commas. The floor creaks And tells poor jokes Instead of-a thesis. So writing here It’s looked down On, the neighbors Are real snobs Doth thou really Think thou art Shakespeare? But there’s charm Down on ole’ Writer’s Block We’re all Just delusional Commas and misbegotten Nouns our monies Are tied up in Untying those clusters Far off in Our imaginations Maybe someday I’ll move up To the corner Of Inspired And Prolific where The rent is low And landlord’s a doll. And the ceiling Is patched up like Well-done poems But for now I fester And I crackle Down in ole’ Writer’s Block.