My gaze was vacant and you were my biggest iMy gaze was vacant and you were my biggest illusion

The experience turned into an unmatched freak.

Existence has been replaced by a completely different world.

Memories turned into a cloud of dust,

Life was now in the colony of another star.

We were wandering around with half-ghost and half-living beings.

Just as in the world; like being dead while living and some still living after death. Like the times when we couldn't bury it even though it disappeared or has no value. We had made a horizontal transition to the universe where the spirits of the old empires were hidden. We were traveling in the shadow of known but known facts, hidden by other old but new faces. It was all in a goddamn metallic time, as if the voices were shrill, nothing more than a squeak, there was no such thing as a beautiful sound.

The music had stopped.

We could communicate or communicate with our brain hums.

The future of anxious days is clear from nightmarish nights.

Anxiety; It is the uncertainty and devaluation of the hours you live.

It was a livable life, but not tolerable. It was irritating, muffled, rude, and gloomy. If only we could manage to disappear before everything was over, not be so immortal, and ensure continuity.

If we could truly appreciate our world, including our very existence, we wouldn't go crazy. If we hadn't been chasing after meaningless ghosts and not beautiful dreams, before it was all over.

On nights when we are related to the cold of death, the birds on the quilt are chirping uncanny. The icy songs that I warmed and sang were numbing the tip of my tongue. The coldness of the marble skin felt like death. I didn't know where to carry my cold hands and words. It would not be possible to carry it with these hands, as if it had lost the ability to hold on.

I had dreams far from death, on nights I slept in agony. There were things that hurt more when it got hot, like remembering, like hoping. Dreaming of the sun so much did not bring it. To wish to forget something every day was to remember it every day. The poet came out of the poem, the subject lost its meaning in its existence. The remaining predicate didn't pack anything in, and the actions didn't do much either.

My gaze was vacant, you were my biggest illusion. Since I did not dare to explain this, I wasted words in disbelief. Every word you chase to believe is a trap for your soul.

Being deceived is getting yourself caught in the traps you set deliberately. When you see and read that poem you knew by heart years ago, the change you feel, what has happened at work, those who have aged, those who have changed, the passing time turns outward and stops.

Everyone is disappearing, disappearing. It was so quiet that everything ended, I couldn't do anything, I couldn't say anything. But I fell apart, stopped and crumbled where I left off. If we get away from the noise, our inner voice will drown us. Some mornings seem so unnecessary. Everything you say, let's do it for a while, doesn't come back to you with the same feelings when you postpone it. You're wasting.

There is no right time, just what needs to be lived is happening. That book that you postponed because you do not trust the present tense and the meanings you will find by saying that I will read this book in the future, will not make you feel what you feel now when you believe that the time has come.

You won't be able to feel anything with the same feelings.

Just like when I'm writing these sentences right now, I'm actually going through much better ones, but they disappeared until I put them here.