Clickity Clack Poem by Dakota Ellerton

If I could sit and write from wake to sleep, by the open window with my marijuana ash tray, and endless supply of cigarettes and coffee, feeding only on the chaos and drama that has seeded and grown along side me in this house, on this street, in this town, I’d do well.

I’d write of thing’s I’ve done and seen, the sex and love and highs I’ve had, the sensational tingle in each touch and feel, the way my heart would race and stop, race and stop, race and stop - tripping me over my own feet, laces always untied, leaving myself open for the risk of falling and getting hurt.

I’d look at nothing but a screen, as music flowed in one ear and out the other - inspiring the pool of words through my mind to errupt, flooding into paragraphs - collapsing into images and broken shards of my infinite reality.

Clickity clack, clickity clack, my fingers dance over the keys- my ears are ringing from the yelling and the arguing, the nonsense is close to blocking the thin line between idea, and creating - weaving and webbing to design a flow of words that inspire and enjoy.