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November 16, 2011

The spirtit of 1909

Often head and seldom seen
I live in spaces in between
Like cliche'd wind under the rafters
I fill silent rooms with quieter laughter
When pain strikes at nerves and others pause
My soul speaks out and gives you claws
to grasp at life and screaming strike
out at the dying of the light
I stand in curtains

Most others unknowing
I stand real as love,
as death camps
as a gentleman's charms
The transpsarent man with tattoed arm
tan and tall, here and dead
a ghost in the dark
a voice in your head
some promises refuse to fade
and cling like a tired man to shade
I hold fast;remaining hard as stone
Because of 6 dying words
"until you're safe, I won't leave you alone".

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