"I Cannot Write, My Mind's Not Right!"

I cannot write, I cannot write, my mind's not right!
My quill pen quivers in my hand,
My keyboard vibrates off its stand,
I cannot write, I cannot write, my mind's not right!
Is this some form of writer's block,
Or is that psycho-babble schlock;
Is this a door I can unlock,
Or a large immovable rock;

I cannot write, I cannot write, my mind's not right!
Images float across my head,
Better suited for "Evil Dead";
I cannot write, I cannot write, my mind's not right!
An azure plain and ashen seas,
A nightingale pauses then flees,
My twisted thoughts swirl lik-a' storm breeze,
Rather than her eyes I see-'er knees;

I cannot write, I cannot write, my mind's not right!
What an awful confusing state,
Losing faith in what once was fate...
Or possibly, or just perhaps,
This is a phase or a relapse,
Into the sorta' mental recoil,
(Like a hand held under hot oil)
From which one can and will emerge,
And new inspirations can surge,
Beginning to spill forth again,
Verses and stanzas and refrains.

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