Turritopsis dohrnii: A species of jellyfish that can revert back
To a sexually immature state when its injured or dying, making it biologically immortal.

A jellyfish,
Nothing but thickened water
Some genetic material
Polythene bags and paper glue,
Is granted immortality.
We, humans
The heirs of a billion evolutions,
A million grains of life,
Crumble like sand castles
Scatter like sawdust.

The universe taunts,
Laugh until your shadow swallows you
Your every breath was a thousand last breaths,
Puny mortal.

Trading life for death isn't the countermeasure for strife! As it is very "politely" too say that life mocks the complete scenario of death itself. However, if you actually started to take a little closer look at ourselves in general... You'd come to say that our very lives, aren't so different when death essentially claims them. Only when it is time for our lives to become entirely subjected upon deaths desire to appoint life to crumble at deaths very feet. Life in deaths very comparison for an opposite comparison, is seeing that it's nothing but "dust at one's very toes". But when life is about to crumble and seemingly turn into a crumbling dustless ash... It see's itself (for the very first time ever) plead too death in such a way as if it's begging at it's very, well...feet! Revealing it's form of crumbling dustless ash, even before it's become aware of that very state. As all life ever wanted (after coming to the final point in it's very supposed fluid ride of existence) was to hope for a nice ending! Until finding out that death wasn't so merciful!

i feel like we’re all alone
i feel like i could dissolve

One minute you’re indulging in life’s empty promises,
full of light with a touch a glow;
and suddenly,
you’ve been consumed by the paradox of your own mind;
crumbling;
deteriorating;
without a trace,
you’re dying.

She left the gate agar
And the sun crept in to steal my time,
Adding the ever-careful wrinkles round my eyes.
Dead strawberries withered with care
And Rainy, ****** skies weighed down  with weeks of meager, longing stares.

Is there more I can hold in the folds of my fingers?
Drip through the cracks, I fumble.
I wish I could see my darkening eyes...
And hear the seeds of my labor
crumble

I was your
             crumble you licked, Mmm....

But your always my cookie...