The Glyphs, the Glyphs

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