I went to the
Doctor
Because my writer's block
was getting worse.
He ran
blood tests and
did X-Rays on my hands
but they all came out
negative
Sitting on the
cold
hard
steel
bed
We went though
different operations
that we could do
One, he said, involved a
total draining of my blood
and giving me a different blood type
in hopes that it
would spark some creativity.
Another was giving me the hands
of another famous author
Who would help pick out the right
words on the keyboard
But none appealed to me.
I went home
with a loss of hope and
$500 that I would never
get back.
Maybe this writers block
means something
Like...How I need to
get a life and get out of that
little tiny corner
of Starbucks
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