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What do you wish that I would do?

To help you, over or under or through,

these times in which thought neither comes nor goes.

I'd hate to leave you at mercy, of critics or crows.

While your brain spins it's tires in proverbial mud.

And the wall meets your head with a fracturing *THUD*.

Till your brain gets its fill of a creative flood.

What do you wish me to do?

I could grant you some lather to launder your mind.

Or take out your brain to replace it with mine.

But I hope we coincide, that the best thing untried.

Is to give you my best, whilst your blockage bide by.