dead head

lead
in my head-
thoughts are dead
I feel only the dread
of staring at a blank unfed
slate of white; unresponsive, unattended,
unyielding to the thoughts I've since led
to the stark page; All I sense is left unsaid
as it floats around the nameless space half-bred.
I'm floating here myself, I can do nothing but tread
the empty space of the unyielding page, an endless thread
which has left me dry as a turnip that has been pressed and bled
too many thoughts come to those who are established and well-read
but to those who are floundering, the words and page are left unwed.