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.