Writers Block

My pen touches the paper.
A few letters appear but each time they end up scribble. 
As if my brain was tongue tied.
I know what I wanna say but how do I convey it?
Tryna marginalize not only by staying within the red line.
Maybe I’ll go unwind and have a glass of wine.
Before I know it a remote is in my hand.
Frustrated flicking through channels.
Thinking of ways to be witty and ignore my self pity.  
Looking over at my trashcan overflowed with crumbled papers. You’d think I was playing basketball. I close my eyes for a few seconds.. Meditating and praying to to stay positive.
Trying to sustain the will to keep going and not push it off for another day.
Then the creativity starts flowing through me.  
If you’ve been through this you get me.
Every thing goes mute.
The only sound I hear is my pen on the canvas painting pictures through words.