Davidwill Iammarsh

Rookie (one twin tea one nine teen ate, he ate. / My Am Me)

Out Of Hand - Poem by Davidwill Iammarsh

falling open
with an open mouth
flapping about
whatever i wish to think
to speak.
out loud, but not
too loud.
i don't know,
is this too loud?
do you think..
maybe, i should simmer down
like how you do with the Fransisco treat,
when you lower the heat
and put a cap on it
and you sit back and think
the condensation on the glass,
and how the steam pours out
when i move the lid
and the smell fills the room.

a gentle bloom,
a silent spoon
fed to you,
with your own voice
carrying the tune.

I don't know if you know what I mean...

I know your think your ass can sing
but the things you stink
don't mean shit to me.

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, February 7, 2010

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