Why I am not such a writer

I want to be a writer but cannot find the words.
Buzzing swarming elemental mess
flying round my head and in my heart
But trying to pin them on the page,
Well, lets just say
Its like trying to shout dragons out of the sky
while the world walks by with headphones on
carrying some mocha cappa frappa bean-beast.
While my land is filled more with cyborgs
drinking tea wearing monocles and proclaiming huzzah
Where humanity is diverse and unified
Where the wild punks roam and rub shoulders
with steam punk knights.

But writers seem to catch the zeitgeist train early,
And catch the modern masses feeling in jars
Thus writing for themselves and then many.

But I am no writer, I write for myself
Maybe one day someone will have tea with words and me...