The Muse

Alright so I sit here at the computer trying to write. Trying to get words out in poetic or even short story format and nothing comes out. It's like my lake has dried out. I only hope that sometime soon there will be a downpour of rainy words. I am very very frustrated with the way things are. The Muse is sitting there on her pedastool laughing. I love writing more than most things in this world, writing as I have said a million times before is my life blood, its my only talent and without it I feel worthless to the world. I feel like I was put on this earth to be a molder of words, poetically or otherwise. It seems that lately, I have been nothing but distracted by the apeshit throwing contest that my thoughts are doing. I need to find ways to clear a path. To build a bulldozer. I'm sick of the way I've been lately. Please Muse, let me bathe in your greatness, let me take your temple and use it on the blank page.