Writers Blocked Arteries

I’m stuck. I’ve been stuck. For 5 weeks now, or it could be much more than that. But when you’re stuck your sense of time and space get altered. You’re aware that time has gone by, and is going by as you speak, as you talk, as you breathe and your aware that the earth has made its share of rotations around its axis as well but alas your stuck, on your axis or on that part of your body that describes you more than anything else in the world.
Bum. Extreme bum mode.
I want to write . So much, my mind is like one of those old grandfather clocks, it needs to be wound to tick again. For the time being its been ticked out.
But will someone come and wind me up or this time will i have to find a way to wind myself up in order to get ticking again.
I indulge in indulgence.
I am surrounded by this chemically induced illusion.
This chemically imbalanced equation.
This lack of motivation.
This fight for ideation.
All I seek is freedom. All I seek is perfection.
But I can’t seem to move.
Friends, people come and fill these empty spaces in my head and make me forget. Make me purposeless.
The alcohol is entering my system right now, soon I will be passed out or fucking in the bedroom with the lights out.
The drugs make their way through my passages uplifting every molecule and making it free. And thus, making me free.
How can i take advantage of this upliftment. By lying around motionless like a coral in the coral reef?
Movement seems hard especially when you’re stuck.
But I promise you one thing, I was meant for great things and great things were meant for me. Its my soul mate as I am its. And we will find each other, maybe not today or maybe not day after but soon. Soon enough. Enough is Enough.
I shall unblock these arteries.