Answer:
My first is high, My second damp, My whole a tie, A writer's cramp
I'm white, I'm round, but not always around. Sometimes you see me, sometimes you don't.
It's anything but amusing when this body part gets hit.
I count time, but have no end. Tick tick, but I am not a clock. What am I?
You can always see it, but it's too far away to touch. Mountains rest on it, and at sea it surrounds you. What is it?
What is always coming but never arrives?