Shit Water (ending? also, lacking structure?)

After years of knowing the sounds
& studying the music
I can read a sheet of music
with a piano in my head,
a shiny black baby-grand Baldwin,
tinking without a sound
rather the impression of sound
in the sandy beach of my ear...

then I turn and think of
my dead great uncle and aunt.
I'm at dinner conversing,
though watching myself
from above, half in, half out
of the conversation. Another turn,
and I'm in bed, where death is
a shiny black baby grand
and I am playing it with no music
on the stand and love
or lust or whatever sex may be
comes into the picture & in one
burst I fall asleep. I turn
& look into the toilet bowl.
Whatever floats mixes with
whatever sinks.