Writers block

Sitting here at the corner watching the traffic jam
Songs blaring on mute no sound from the moving amps
Conversations are too
lips flap But i cant comprehend!
A def man dances to the silence  
Blasting in air!
Ive already told about the car crashes
The unfair rulses of traffic the break downs and accidents  
the neighborhood and casualties
Innocent by standards of road life the mysterious signs thats hard to understand  
slowly the cars start to advance  
But not quick enough so im getting up  
To find something new to discuss  
So i plant one foot in front of the other
Nothing changes the streets still silent but the beat still thriving and
I cant hear it so there's nothing to describe so drive down to writers block and see if you get a vibe.
 
Im starting to hear slight clinking
Like keys gingling a bell ring from a church around the block and a burst of sound pops and now everythings heard it shocked me at first i almost droped ciroc on my shirt i hear the curse words from the agitated drivers, i hear the songs playing a distasteful melody playing separately is says"here we go again life a bitch with a wedding ring" i holar well divorce her so i can finally hear something out of the box. I feel like im inside of a box writing on the same block i started in coffin, sick of all the same shit im a dead man sparking up the same idea smoking it until it disappears. Cause nothing  changes here on writers block the same hell sometimes i wonder when time stopped but i cant tell cause it been so long eternity never felt so wrong down here on writers bock im tryna make it to home i feel stuck.