Wedding Photos - Poem by matt fromm
It was miserable manufactured saturday.
The fantasy of 2 blunts to the head was the only thing giving me the strength to get out of bed and shave.
The ride there was long streatched out funeral gloom.
the sky ahead was shoe polish black.
All i saw of the sunset was dying slowly in my rearview mirror.
Wouldn't mind being dragged like a thief behind the semi ahed of us instead of going where I was going.... to open the 9th. gate and wouldn't you know it,
There's fake flowers wich matched the fruit as far as the eye could see.
Kenny G playing loudly in the background.
A lighter shade of HELL apeared on the laptop screen.
Sandwiched between the love of my life (or some shit)
And her aunt.
my demise was peaking over the horizon.
Winking at me.
I knew I was through....
The wedding photos came to life, squeezed their large monstrous, rectangle shaped bodies out
from the computer screen and charged straight at me.
They horrified me with images of future truly DAMNED.
Mercilessly pumbling me
Dragging combs through my hair
Kneeing me in the balls
over and over
until they dropped down my pant leg
rolled across the dinning room floor.
the girlfriend knelt down,
flashing me in the process,
picked up my lonely cojones and said, 'I'll be taking these'
The picture of the bride bitting the head off the plastic wedding cake stutue of the groom, held one of it's sharp corners
to my throat,
While the other walking demon photographs tore my clothes off, slapped a tuxedo on my naked frame and shoved champaigne in my hand.
Weeping in the corner like the wino king I once was after hearing the words last call,
The girlfriend and her Nan`a leaned in slow
stopped 3 inches from my face.
Just then my woman said to me, 'Did you expect it any other way? '
Comments about Wedding Photos by matt fromm
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye