Desert snakes

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Let it not rattle like a cup
Slipping out on your
Tabby cat
No longer smiling;
Such is the crowd of madness

I sit in a room full of porcelain,
A spider whiffs
And the whole room is awake
With people who speed past you
Like horrid torrents
Up for gold in athletics.

Say what is your worth?
I am sold solid in the squalid markets,
I reek of myself
And earthen dust
Out of which I now
unmake myself
And so, sandcastles do not rust.

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