Empty it all out. Dig deep down and throw it on the page. Scatter the words randomly onto the sheet until it becomes wrinkled and stained. Take a deep breath and stumble on-cross out one word and put another in its place. Pause. Stand back and look at it. How does it seem? Does it make any sense? Are there too many periods? Do the quotation marks seem wrong and unnecessary? Is the period in the right place. Does it appear incoherent? Does anyone care? Why all the questions? No one to ask? No one to care? Does it matter really? What you have to say? Will you ever be emptied out? Does the well of imagination run dry? Does it eventually creep away from you like leaves blown along a sidewalk? Creep away because you never thought to gather it up? Why so many questions? Is it because the questions are better than the answers? Is it because the answers are not what you might want to hear?