Never freak out when everything goes wrong:
   that won’t last long.
Don’t strut your stuff when you’ve raked in a hefty ***:
   you’re not so hot.

Whether your life has been a living hell
   that Dante couldn’t tell,
or if you’ve basked in the best of everything
   the world can bring,

life’s a balancing act.  I’ll tell you why:
   you’re going to die,
like it or not, so you might as well have fun
   before you’re done.

Sip the champagne, buy paintings, sail a yacht,
   spend what you’ve got.
Every clock is a time bomb:  there’s no way to know
   when it will blow.

The mint DeLorean,  the Pacific Heights flat,
   even your pedigreed cat,
it all ends up, whatever you did,
   with your slacker kid.

The trust fund brat and the boy who grew up in a dump
   hold hands and jump
into the pit we’re herded toward like cattle.
   You hear that rattle?

The gods are shaking your dice:  the next sunrise
   may be snake eyes.
  

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Copyr­igh­­t 2025 by Jon Corelis

joncorelis.com