Each of us will fail
At dawn, at noon, at midnight
In the twilight world of our dreams
We scarcely escape the falling embers
From the sky
We run like antelope chased
By bullets
We hide in crystal caves
Adorned with glyphs written
To confuse or beguile
You'll run out of money
At the laundromat
You'll run out of cash
At the gas station
You’ll pawn your sofa
Your Neruda books
For mac n’ cheese
The glyphs, the glyphs
In the crystal cave
Return now
And read them
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