It's nearly over ain't it

I really looked in the mirror when I saw you
Your narrowing fingers
neck a fission of shallow valleys poured down to your collar bone
and splashed across the territory of your frame like wild forest roots
Ego stooped in its wilted star-ship

And bumping into you at Sainsburys supposed topics of who passed away last week and which of the old pack's children met an unfortunate fate and who lost their minds when tarot cards of time dropped face up and how many out of focus ghosts who may have shared our school playground ought now, in your chapter of delicate maintenance , to know your acquaintance because all you are is all you ever were before you became who you've been
but its nearly over and scraping the barrel's understandable

Ain't it
And where a pale horse grazes outside
your dinner party memoirs are fermenting into obituary
Cause medical trips are precursor to
them shoveling handfuls of soil on you with its gravity wrenching the strained ducts of your kids eyes

and after a few words they'll be moving on
You've had your turn
you've been and gone