Abandoned Lovers

I hate writers block. I try and try and try to just spill my guts out and all I can come up with is a sentence then the train falls off the track and catches on fire, killing the millions inside. I stare at the pictures hanging on my wall and try my best to come up with a story, a topic, even two words that rhyme will do. But all I receive is a blank slate and an empty track. Besides the couple of trains that have already crashed of course. Every creative thought I had today is screaming at me and all I can hear is a whisper that is impossible to translate from each one of them. Sometimes when they speak up, the words get all mixed up inside my mouth and come out as gibberish through my fingertips. So as I lay here in bed trying to be a good listener, I thought I would at least write something so I can stop punishing myself for something that I didn't do wrong. I'm pausing too often even now trying to think about what to say about not being able to think about what to say! I sit here staring at the images I can collect out of the creases in my ceiling, and I can see how they dance for me, trying to strike an idea in my too empty mind, but all I can get is that they are swaying to the music with such beautiful timing. Anyways, I just had to say that you shouldn't be angry at me for my inability to write anything good at this moment because I am already bruising my fists from punching holes in my walls trying to reach the outside and see something splendid to write about. I hate writers block.