Writer's Block

my mind was once overflowing
with ideas, but is now as weak
as the cold coffee that I drink in this
lonely restaurant

with a fire in my soul
I yearn to write something
that will change the world
but right now, I can't
even write for myself

I have nothing to say
nothing of any lasting value that
will stick to the empty page
that I stare at

the flame in my nether regions
is wearing me down
leaving me to feel like the nub of my pencil with nothing left to give

a tune plays in my head
a beautiful melody which
I cannot place and it won't let me rest
until I can remember the movie
in which I first heard it played

at times I feel tears begin
to well up in my eyes
but I don't know why

I am running out of things to write
about

I am writing about running out of things to write about

and I am writing about writing about running out of things to write about

and I am writing about writing about writing about running out of things to write about

and I am writing....