Writer's Block

Why can't I find the words?
They are there.
I feel them waiting in the shadows of my creativity, but how do I coax them out?
How do I rip them from their protective Sanctuary of solitude to fuse them onto the blank sheet of paper that sits laughing in front of me?
My smile is drawn blank at this point.
Frustrations rise inside, causing a flood of emotions to rush.
Then the words draw deeper inside the solitude.
Oh how I wish them to emerge.
I feel their presence so strongly.
Soon they will come.
I feel it.
Writing is such a feeling sport.
A passion of the mind.
Fluid and addicting.
Once you have that high of the words flowing like a mad river, you'll want those words to come forever.
But often time, as these words will, they hide inside.
Only they tease you with their feelings.
You know they are there.
But oh, not coming to the paper.
Frustrating words!
You hate to love them really.
You know they own you.
They know they own you.
These words use you like a drug would.
Making you want them more and more, yet giving you less and less.
But the entrancing high they do give you!
It is to intoxicate you.
Words flowing.
Words living on your paper.
Golden Words.
Where are they now?
Hiding still.