Six weeks to live

I just woke and the smell of living made the world stand on end, my walk to the shop had me thnking of feet and the drab smell of existence. Everything so strong and dominating forcing its way into my experience without thought for my feelings. I never wanted this, I never knew till it was too late, never new failure till I had crossed the finishing line. Children spin and fall and stand up tall and I'm just too tall to remember who I used to be. I'm just travelling too fast, and with too many memories and regrets for this day to ever be more than just a scratch in the fabric of my fall into nothing.
Play you lucky fuckers, I'll just watch this time, because today there's no hurry, no rush to meet my deadline, because six weeks to live is just enough to let you know that there's no gain in worry.
Rotting feet and grey cold mornings. Ploughed fields and scarecrow sqwarkings. Clocks ticking and bread for the dawning of a new day. I just want more of this,this elegant parade of purpose, this march to the music of time, this play that will contnue after I am gone.
Six weeks of what?
I'll never know.