I hated the way all of our city nights disappeared into one day-
into one 24-hour span that was decades longer in my dreams.
I know the inevitable place we will end up is in dirt, anyway
so why do I keep trying to dance along concrete?
All I am is a ******* strings,
being pulled in multiple directions
from every conflicting piece of advice I am given.
Maybe I will stop listening
because you, too, will die in the end
and leave behind the same **** thing-
a gravestone
(size depends on how much your loved ones are willing to spend)
or ashes
(carefully put into urns or thrown around and blown by the wind)
and the last one to hold us
is a casket or a ******* jar

so what does your advice really matter