Good god
your predicament
describes mine
to a tee.
I sit in front of a bright screen
fingers cold from lack of movement
itching to fly across the lettered stage they live for
uncharacteristically silent.
For days now
no, weeks
I have told myself
“Let us create something
worthy
of note.”
Needless to say, our communication skills have suffered
as of late.
There is a block of ice
(perhaps mine matches yours)
restricting the breath of that which bleeds creation
deep inside me.
Yet
I can’t find the strength to break it out.