Writer's Block

I hate the clock
That sits there and mocks me
Showing every minute
I darn well know I'm wasting

The bloody numbers tick
As it keeps moving forward
Living without regrets
No reason to look backward

Reminding me how pathetic it is
To have words stuck inside my head
To have a brilliant concept
But no means to make it live

How I need to sleep
But sleep, I cannot
Because there are skeletons in my closet
And too loudly they talk

How if I sleep I will lie
And if I keep trying I'll fail
How if I give up now
Write, I never will

The clock, it watches me
Every moment sneering
Telling me I'm useless
And to stop trying

Showing me the numbers
Of how stupid I am
On a scale of twelve to one
At the moment I'm a one point twenty-seven

Hunger churns in my stomach
Anxiety burns in my hand
Sleep claws at my eyes
And restlessness sticks in my head