Writer's Block

My mind is in knots.
There are so many twists and turns
that I can’t seem to follow
and I’m getting frustrated.
Where is the start and where is the end.
And why is it so confusing?
I can’t sit still, my legs want to get up and go
but my brain is too tired for that right now.
I stay seated and try to untangle what is
the big grey lump in my skull to try
and figure out what it’s trying to say.
But I can’t and it’s illegible.
Like a foreign language I don’t recognize.
Hopefully as I spill out on to
what was a blank sheet of paper
I can break through those knots and maybe
comprehend the load of thoughts running through
and around each other in the space of my body
that has been assigned to them.
I only wish I knew for certain that this would
break through and let me know what
I should be knowing.
Which is what I shouldn’t be confused about.
But I have, as I said earlier,
become properly frustrated.
In not understanding myself which came
to produce this offspring of my writers block
which I wish did not exist at any time.
Gathering myself might help as I feel as if
I’m spread across a massive surface that
I can’t seem to find all the pieces of myself on.
How can I find myself when I barely know myself
and can hardly sort the outrageous number
of absurd thoughts that have come along
and jumbled themselves into this huge mess
in a space that I do not appreciate them in,
as it causes such great headaches,
but it is where they belong…
as they are thoughts
and my brain is where they are.
In and around themselves they are twisted
and some have become disfigured.
They are still appearing quite foreign
and still too illegible and
I’m hoping that by the time I need them
they will have untangled themselves so that
I may read them thoroughly
and have them come from my lips
in intelligent sounding sentences
that may produce a well-liked work of literature.
I am off to meditate and hopefully,
to some extent,
untangle the illegible
‘to be’ sentences
in my discombobulated brain.