Nothing to write... [writer's block]

I wriggle my fingers above the keys,
Oh I’m filling up with spite.
How dreadful this feeling is,
Waiting for inspiration to strike.

Then I pick up a notebook,
And a pencil too.
Then I begin to write but in haste the lead breaks,
And I think my muse too cruel.

Then I look into the window,
The window of the net.
Millions, no billions of pictures and art to inspire,
But no, still nothing yet.

I tug at my hair in frustration,
Bite my lip in hope.
Hope that the pain will surface something,
Almost, almost… nope.

Now I’m not hoping or wishing,
No, not praying, not asking!
I’m begging and demanding,
I mean, I thought my gift was everlasting.

Now my opinions change,
It’s not a gift, it’s a curse!
My mind’s rearranging,
And I wanna head straight for that hearse.

NO!

I put down the pencil,
I unplug my computer.
I make myself some tea and,
I tell myself, Just try again later.

Writer’s block? No worries.
I mean…
You can’t rush brilliance.