The past has come apart
events are vagueing
the future is inexploitable

the present        pain.

Not even pain has that precision
with which it struck in youth-time.

More like moth
eroding internal organs
hanging or falling down
in a spoiled closet.

Does your mirror Bedevil you
or is the impossible
possible to senility
enabling the erstwhile agile 
narrow silhouette of self
to hold in huge reserve
this excessive incognito--
of a Bulbous stranger--
only to be exorcised by death

Dilation has entirely dominated
your long reality.