je n'ai rien à dire (i have nothing to say)

i'm sitting on the computer,
so i might as well start typing
and see what flows out of this empty head of mine.
things haven't gotten much better.
my writing is still lacking...something,
i can't quite put my finger on what it is.
i'm falling in love with God all over again,
so that can't be the issue.
i'm not going to play doctor and
try to figure out what the problem is, either.
because whether or not i like it,
this emptiness keeps coming back.
sometimes, i think it's just simply that
i've emptied my brain's poetic thought onto paper
and there's nothing left,
that it's gonna take a while before
things are back to the way they should be.
but i can't handle that answer.
i can't handle the thought of having nothing to say.
i can't handle the fear that this isn't temporary,
that i will never be able to write like i once did again.
and i'm sure someone is looking at this
and thinking that i'm a writer,
that this prose is striking...but the truth is,
i'm lacking.
i'm lacking that feeling i would get
when my passion would surge through my fingertips
onto the keyboard and do the talking for me.
i feel like i'm missing that functionality
that my writing once had. it used to be so dramatic
and yet so real. so poetic
and yet so simple.
and now it's just a lazy excuse
to sit around on a computer and try and
remember where i put my creative mind.
i must have replaced it with logic.
will i ever be able to write again like i once did?
and if not, is this just part of an artist's growing up?
and if so, will i ever get used to this way of creating?
and if not, will i always just be longing for the good old days?