crumbled and rolled

unintentional memorization 05/30/2009

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 12:59 pm

i hear her swallowing pills in the other room, my door is open and i
am naked sitting on my bed, too blitzed to move, paralyzed by the
noise of the neighbors, men and children, an unholy divorce court.

celluar detriment shifts, sifting through porous cesspools, and i am
nostalgic for video game landscapes. i miss getting mushrooms on
my pizza, cartoons six times a week… i’m sick of the mess but what
else is left but for blame?


lightning is frightening! 05/27/2009

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 6:26 pm

it’s a fucking waterpark outside,
a seaworld with lightning rods
highly charged and in my own backyard
rather the courtyard, in my defense,
i could not pluck that clover
not even under your umbrella, ella, ella, ella.

do i hear my name downstairs?
lucid, my mother berates me
for losing my paystubs, failing to
balance my checkbooks, and stealing
my receipts she chides me dreamily…
upon waking from a whiskey nap,
approaching, saving my drafts,
coiffing my booze,
receding with rumbles,
a meteorogical rain lion received me.


oh man did we put up windows?
it’s so quiet but for the books on tape
Not even one worry. Haha what you doin?
bilderberg meets in greece today
Lol yes silly silly me… and y u gotta harass me so much?!
Im not! ur so paranoid
Hey this is nuts
Trippin balls
Oh kay dear
Its wmom got new caterpilar fo b day
Yo go druuunk
you shooking drugs
Juliet. This is an emergency. Please call me back. I don’t have any friends.
Ha ha that is a mixture of corruption and beauty. I love it and condone it fully.

“somehow it seems unsatisfactory, cinco de mayo tequila sunrise. happy orange juice existence. you’llll know what i mean. burrs on my pajamas, yeah you’ll know what i mean. yeah. I;m adding some dope bling”


don’t scream 05/26/2009

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 12:44 am

chewed, having choked,
gum to clear the smoke
guns do regret their strokes
& cigarettes regret being smoked.

joints, meant to toke,
inventions to circumvent
the unholiest smoke:
it all takes place
in cyberspace.

it’s fucking faster than lightspeed
and it’s always expanding.
that’s why you’re officially post-human…


villanelles are tiresome! perhaps finish later when grammar return! 05/17/2009

Filed under: edible — paperslightertext @ 9:59 pm

i vow to take complete yoga breaths
each day between absurdist verses,
so i don’t drop dead of excess stress.

ask permission of your chaperon
before you strip to dance
lest you down too much patron.

if slick nick asks you to get stoned,
before your hippie trance-
ask permission of your chaperon.

pretty city boys sport shining iPhones,
handheld bougie deviance
having downed too much Patron.

VILLANELLES ARE TIRESOME. pfffllt. (makes jackoff motion.) BLEUHHH.

bouncing having banged my crown
on the shelf where the timeclock lives
dancing having drank it down
nonsense rhymes all i can spurt
from the sparks ground metal tracks
a little warbling’ll do,
just please never ask me to rap.

question: shall i posit that
the neighbor lady shimmy
‘cross the way to my lonely
cold home to eat fanciful
green cheese biscuits?

answer: why, yes, i shall…


to tango 05/06/2009

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 12:10 am

irrational rhyme
in errant notes

trademark green
traded for matter
in variable boxes
begs the question:

why practice with backflips
in sine curves of trigonometry?
bicycle rides, trashed golf cart trips
drunk in irrational geometry,

excuse me sir, can you take a paper hint?
i’m straight up staring at you.
fresh printed, straight from the psychotic mint,
pick up the damned clue:

texted language that stings
like lightning lashed from a whip
injured by a summer fling,
a half-joking precursor to strip

with satin i’ll pin
your feather to bed
the fangs in my grin
set to puncture your head.


daydreaming of the beach. 05/04/2009

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 10:07 pm

i have a vision
of me on a bicycle,
carrying you in my knapsack.

crossing the creek
chucking crabapples.
just… when we get home

don’t ask me what
i’m doing alone
in my room

a fat roach in hand
dancing naked.

city grime coats every strand
of my not cut curls
in an oily film

while my friend
plays fetch for green

but i still haven’t
bothered to dress.


still hungry after all these years…

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 12:24 am

i hate coming to
and realizing i’m post-tornado,
the aftermath of childish blustering
stain my guiltier teeth right to the ridges.
take me away with your tool,
doctor salty enamel tickling tip

ignore the subconscious gushing
mouth-blood of it.

(i ate too many carbohydrates tonight. this stuff in parentheses is not part of the poem, just a disclaimer for the title.)