Months no longer mattered
Much less days
And time itself took on a liquid form.

Time was never much of a fact for me
I never gave encouragement to notions of
Supper time or bed time
And especially
Time to unwind.

My mind was already unwound enough
And it could never be reunited or relaxed
It was as it was.

There was no sharpness to life lately
And everything took on the familiar
Grey, blurred qualities I was used to.

This was how it felt to be out of love,
Out of life
And somewhere part worries or doubts.