He sat there pen in hand waiting for the slightest lick of inspiration
He stared blankly at the white paper on the table
Just a few more minutes he thought
Maybe it was not the right time
He just sat there
Bored out of his mind
He got up stepped outside
Took a breath of fresh air and went back
He sat at the table
Still nothing
His eyes slowly closed
He fell asleep
He woke up again
Looked at the paper
Now wet with drool
He changed the paper
Still nothing
Maybe he just wasn't cut out for this
He waited
And waited
Still nothing
He got up took the paper
Tore it into tiny pieces
And moved on with his life
