Down this street again.
Grabbed my pen, quarter past ten,
Standing by the nightstand; pacing; standing, then pacing again.
Scratching on my head; chewing on the end of my blue pen.
Yellow pages; Keep re-calling, head turning, forward; I'm hung-up again.
Wrote it down, but still doesn't read the same way it sounds in my head.
I'm in that zone: Dead. Erased a book and a few more chapters.
Edited it so much; changed the title after: The END.
Went from being on a roll, to: NEVER again!!!
Stuck on writer's block;A one way street; that starts with an end.
Where legends past, and good writers are destined.