matt fromm (march 24 1982 / los angels, ca.)
Don't it make my white walls red?
If it looks like shit
and It smells like shit
you probably got burned.
All the sweet things I said to the women I loved...
May have just been a deposit in the eulogy bank.
I tried and I tried.
Reminded every day I wasn't good enough.
3 long years.
Wishing she was here.
I know she'd quiver at how many lashings I can take across the back.
Oh, how wet she'd get
When I told her to use my belt.
I'd scream how worthless I was compared to her.
And then I'd beg for more.
She's only 5 foot 5.
And I'd tell her I was the small one.
FUCKIN WHALE ON ME LIKE THE VOLLEY BALL YOU PLAY WITH!
Gnaw on my pastie Kraut/ Mc. ass... fierce kitty...
just don't choke on the rancid bait you sadly use to wake up with.
Harder and faster, I want you to belt away my feelings one more time.
Stranger at the bar
Wild venus in bed,
It's time to penetrate my head.
I said it hurts my precious baby,
Still hurts my precious baby,
I swear I'll penetrate my head!
Crying on your bedroom floor
Begging you for more
Showing off how well I can take it.
I plead with you to quit starring in my night terrors.
They are scary enough without you.
Slip it back in my chest
Cut out the source of our misery once and for all.
Oh God baby you were great.
I thank you.
You can give me that final kiss goodnight and goodbye,
Now I leave you forever.
I love you forever.
Comments about this poem (Don't it make my white walls red? by matt fromm )
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