Voluntary Liquidation

It's time
The countdown has been pushed to its limit
Nothing vibrates anymore
It must be acknowledged
Inside the required old missions, beyond the essential dreams
 What is more or less shaded
In the palm of the hand

It's time
 The work has borne no fruits
The cup should now be a bit full with the juices of my efforts
It is not

I am condemned to my own lift
 Without other purpose for the time being
 Than to cover what was
With a carelessness which I know nothing about

It's time
 And in this evening
As once again I am talking to the wall
 Unsure if anyone will ever even hear my voice
I lean over and tell myself
 Well, it's time to know

 It's time
 And I know I will continue to pretend,  this is possible
 But the uncompromising kernel of my life
Has been washed up

September 2015