Writer's Block

This writer’s block feels like a cancer
So I’ll smoke another lovely cigarette
Hoping to stumble across an answer
In the smoke hovering over my head  

Achieve a clouded view, I’m perched upon the cathedral
I quietly leave a crowded room, as though I were ethereal

And sit in agony wresting with my tragedy  
Keeping my balance is so very maddening
I’ll cling to this depravity, tread the tight rope
Of sanity in hope that we might elope ourselves in one another
Hide with me my lover under the covers
Of darkness through the woods
She lit the path that I took
So that I’d trigger a trap with my foot

I was left hanging from the rope that I balanced across
Chain smoking and over thinking, I like to think it’s not a block
Like I like to think drinking’s enough, that I don’t need line or a rock
Or when I’m on it I don’t need a feed, I’ll be fine but I’m not
That my teeth won’t fall out soon and my heart doesn't
Feel the need to touch the spoon and all the trash and filth in my room
Won’t manifest and form a monster under my bed
That is powered by cogs that pump inside my head