Life is ...

Life’s a game with no reset,
a spilled wine comedy,
where plans unravel like your favorite pants.
“Don’t dream of tomorrow,” they say,
but today’s a gray blur of emails and sighs,
Netflix judging you from its endless scroll.

“It’s ten percent events, ninety percent reaction,”
but my math's bad,
and distractions win the day.
They tell me to “create myself” and “make it sweet,”
but what’s sweet in surviving deadlines
while the beach dreams of me instead?

“Dance in the rain,”
but umbrellas are expensive,
and the storm’s been billing me for years.
“The rarest thing is to live,”
yet the bank prefers my soul on layaway.

So here I am, laughing at chaos,
raising a glass to absurdity,
a toast to life’s messy, cynical lore.
Because if nothing else,
at least the beer’s cold