On the shore he perches daily,
body wrecked and curled.
Through his hand
there streams some sand,
drawn down unto the world.

As twilight sinks, he gives a wistful
glance toward the sky,
as tales and tears
of eighty years
still now adorn his eye.

Soon he picks himself on up, and
shuffles west, forlorn,
and no one knows
quite where he goes -
he's always back by morn.

He's seen a lot and lived his years
defined by time's demands,
and with regret,
like sand, he's let
his life slip through his hands.

So on the shore he perches daily,
fingers fixed, unfurled,
and for his bruises,
slowly loses,
bit-by-bit, his world.

Happy birthday to you
Now you're thirty and greyed
Enjoy your new wrinkles
And I hope you get laid

I feel too young
To be this old
Yet I'm too old
To feel so young.

when the shining glass looks back at us
like a stalled rerun of our personal opera
of soap, and the technicolor turns to charcoal gray
we know we are coming to the end of our day

and we look to other faces,
and their “windows to the soul,”
for a reflection of who we are, or
were; they cast an obligatory glance
or do an avoidance dance, when
we give an imploring stare
to see if they know,
we are still there

each day fewer shine bright
or glitter with glee and we wonder
what happened to me, the me they saw
and sought after in the colored world
of before

others disappear into their own dark night
having long endured their inevitable plight
of the cold mirror’s still, shattering view
and disappearing eyes of all but a few
who see us yet faintly in the light
that remains

you
and i are more

alike than we think.
but

you experienced so much
excitement
at my age, so

perhaps i'm destined
to have
mine

at yours.

What shall I do, while I slowly wait to die?

Make a time-lapse movie of my withering decrepitude?

Tell a thousand jokes on Twitter that people will scroll past in their own journey toward death?

In trying to create meaning out of no meaning

We come up with some really strange, elaborate and often internally inconsistent ideas

All of which are designed to distract us from the mirror.