None of this will really matter
Building castles on the tide line
Lacing up the running shoes
Going through the motions of a life
Knowing it won’t mean a thing
In the final tally of the universe

Scratching marks on paper
Too stiff for use as **** wipes
And unwanted in any other place
Killing trees in order to not die alone
Wrapped in grief and
Sitting 3 feet from despair

The reach is just a bit too short
To push the final button.
       ljm