Writer's Block

What is this strange constipation? From a man who conducts litigation? I cannot speak write or think, my affect is simply to blink. Like opposed magnets my pen deflects off paper. My mind sends me IOU's for later. I am impeded like a stroke. No help from a joint toke. La dee da, my friends joke, 'where now is that auteur'? Not that their taunts make it worse. I can't produce one line of verse, nor upon any topic can my mind focus. The advice on writer's block is all hokus-pokus. So I must resign. No muse this time. but other times I will shine, and then be closer to my prime.