good news, i have cured my own writer's block.
an interesting thought roamed my mind on march 20th, 2018
"i have not felt any emotions in quite some time."

precious time that i have missed out on the feeling of a smile settling itself onto my face

the conclusion that i came to: when i cant feel, i cant write.
i had cracked the mystery of why my pen and my mind could not seem to cooperate
causing a disruption in my routine to write something substantial in weeks

so, i opened the flood gates and let my emotions rush out to drown the city in my mind
broken down into two million, one hundred thousand, and sixty-eight pieces i tried to analyze myself

kind of like a detective looking for a lead on a case taking years to unfold

thankfully i found an answer
i found myself a pool of green in a room of white
negative emotions seeping toxicity into the air that bubbles above it
a poison ready to coat you and deteriorate every cell in your body one at a time

i took a leap in the pool of course and found that i was coming up empty handed

so i sat down on my bed amongst my smooth polar bear covered sheets
and i pulled my notebook and pen off of the nightstand

then i took a deep breath
and wrote this poem to cure my writer's block