Writer’s Block

Sprawled across the bed,
Comfortably covered in the comforter,
As the ceiling fan circulates
The cold air around the room.
My head, still wet from the shower,
Rests nicely on my pillowcase.
Yaawwnnn!
So tired…
All I want to do is sleep,
But I’m stuck awake,
Trying to write one last poem.
Racking my brain for ideas,
But my mind is empty for once.
Maybe it’s the continuous doses
Of nite-time Tylenol cough syrup
And the 4am alarm clock
From yesterday morning.
The Knight’s of Prosperity
Playing on TV
Sure doesn’t help with the process.
It’s just one distraction
After another,
When delaying the inevitable
And putting off what’s required;
Just one more poem for the week…
But, Lost is on.