crumbled and rolled


Filed under: silliness — paperslightertext @ 4:09 am

Meat that begs you to eat it
I was that futuristic cow,
my flesh irresistible cash to be carved
off engorged haunches, canines
grasping at the flank to feed.

Staked, then, on a bed of straw,
Tail in tongue, a smoke-serpent ring rising.
Legend has it,
On that day,
not a single fuck was given.

The brushfire eliminates the scrub-
Hence the saying: so it goes. Amen.


“The mattress globbered.” 07/24/2011

Filed under: silliness — paperslightertext @ 11:52 pm

How many times in four years
have you flipped the flabby futon
In a futile attempt to extract
the fallow fat from your lower back?

Says he’s smothered by your hips
yet he wallows in them,
having absorbed much marsh
waiting for your eventual mothering.
He flollops,
flinging up bits of swamp.

Still fattened,
often I wake sweaty,
dreaming of Squornshellous Zeta
on a mattress I’m sure is named Zem.


homeward bound 05/29/2011

Filed under: silliness — paperslightertext @ 5:38 am

I feel as though I’m leveling up
yet I keep getting stuck just before
the boss where there’s
a cliff I can’t quite clear
and I’ll have to grind,
sweaty and haggard,
through the muggy night.


SIX SIX SIX 05/26/2011

Filed under: silliness — paperslightertext @ 11:35 pm

Uh oh.


no surprises 05/19/2011

Filed under: silliness — paperslightertext @ 2:51 am

Suggested as a soft springboard fall back,
poor little rich girl, your bane
was my escape from the mundane.

How will you sleep there?
In the soft corner, nest of noise,
symmetrical bed of months.
What’s the quickest way to kill a year?
Spend it all here.
You’ve been upgraded to Platinum Rewards Level.
Your call may be monitored for quality assurance
We’ll be ever so demure, all,
“Here’s your balance, sir,
Thank you and have a nice day.”


visions of 2014 04/01/2011

Filed under: readable,silliness — paperslightertext @ 11:24 pm

They were given cigarettes as provisions,
those who hedged their bets along the lake.
Packets of civet cafe, bread and cacao,
apples bursting with icy rain, all blended
in ice with non-fatty whipped topping.

It was around that time McDonalds started selling
sustainable milkshakes in ethical containers of endocrine,
but it was too late. We’d already eaten the salty sugar
from the bottom of the plastic liner, getting dog fur
in our mouths, transmitted by sticky kid-like digits.


bitchin in the kitchen 10/16/2010

Filed under: silliness — paperslightertext @ 10:48 pm

for all intents and purposes i’m SOS
sauciness on the side, extra innuendo.
foil it, that’s a wrap. dodge the rain of boiling oil.
fire indeed hot! a flash in the pan, well-lubricated blade
irresistible to the endless entendre brigade

my poker face can not tell a lie:

he dug me out of the sand, led to the clams
by flotsam, emotional baggage churned ashore
by the inevitable tide of self-doubt

the thirsty should take caution not to drink brine.
though it looks appealing, it defreshes,
and though the starved will arm themselves
with nibbles stolen from plates
of those whose dates are in the bathroom,

the truth stands naked in your kitchen.
the fridge light illuminates it: hey! look! listen!