In Which I Shamelessly Rip Off A Chel White Film

Chel White has shown us what he goes through when

It's time to write. It feels so strange and true

That it is my own sharp, harsh medicine

For when my own processes leave me blue.

First off, I kill the lights except for that

Which shines out from my laptop's baleful screen.

Then smoke a cigarillo there, out back,

Behind my house. I write some words, then scream,

Draw weirdo red cartoons in a Moleskine,

Then wipe out roughly half the words I've made.

To round things out, I let The Dude (he's mine

Own greatest muse) say how I feel, then trade

Self-pity for the awesome pow'r of PANTS.

Then write a lot, crank up the tunes, and dance.