“#YOLO”
let your thoughts roll off your tongue
as dice on Vegas tables
savor each
mon-oh-syl-ab-ic
memory of times before time,
bask in each moment before
it is numbered, valued,
sold at Sotheby’s to
anonymous bidder
as time buys our lives from us.
because no one outbids time.
when we realize that
since the invention of the internet
we have spent eight months of our lives
masturbating to people whose real names
are as secret to us as
how the rest of our time slipped through our greedy fingers:
two years frustrated in traffic;
six years frustrated at god;
ten years frustrated at life;
twenty years frustrated at the government;
four hours and twenty-seven minutes
content with everything we have been given.
how many times have you watched the sun rise?
how many lines of your favorite show’s theme song can you listlessly quote?
you may find one to be greater than the other;
we live an inequality,
and too often find ourselves lesser than we thought.
so ask yourself this
those 40,000 seconds you spent watching
Desperate fucking Housewives reruns
are never crawling back to you,
when your time comes,
and believe me, that’s sooner than you think,
when you glance at death’s watch and say
damn, is it really that late?
when you turn into a pumpkin at midnight,
will you be proud of the shadows your
jack-o-lantern corpse casts on the wall behind,
or will you watch your candle burn and
slip away?
