Writers Block

the wooden pencil between my fingers the led touches the paper mind becomes blank words seem to have no true meaning piles of crumpled up stationary all over the floor heaping out of the wastebasket a dull pencil rolls off the table on top of it shavings on the hardwood floor... it too has given up I place the pencil between both my fists like a rod cracking it into two shanks the lead between the broken bark exposed like a fractured bone injecting from the skin Still usable yet cannot be erased without its other half Tape...I need tape