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Who are you? I do not know you -- a man whose angles
Reach me and scrape my skin; whose voice is flowing in my veins,
Forcing me to boil or freeze; man whose eyes are tangled
Tight with my eyes, imprinting every image with his stamp;
Who pursues me to the bells of my temples, ringing
Loud in my head; who enters every room inside my sleep,
Breaking locks, not knocking, stopping my clocks, and reading
Poems he wrote in me in pink; who holds me on a leash,
Leading me away from me till I'm lost; who makes me
Dream of his dreams, and feel: my hands extend his hands, my walls
Echo him, my footprints trace his; who has me measure
Space with his shoe size, time -- with the percussion of his words.
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