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where my demons go

‘tis the time of night when your love struts
With a mixed perfume of musk and havana
Like a strange deity, dark as the nights
Like a work of dead gods of the Savannah.

'tis that time of night I know how to tame
Me, by writing; and you, by reciting in constancy.
Your eyes are the cistern where my troubles drink
But I come here always, seeking trouble constantly.

And tonight, I had to run to the place where demons go.
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