İllüstrasyon

Sonra vazgeçtim.

Popular posts from this blog

Oh Baby, Wasn’t I There?

Image
A Cold Bed In The Quiet Earth I walked through the cemetery, the soles of my boots crunching softly against the gravel path. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, and the shadows stretched long and thin, casting an eerie glow over the gravestones. I shouldn’t have been there. This was not a place for late-night visits, especially not alone. But tonight, I needed to be here. I needed to see him.  I was just a teenager when he was tearing up stages, leaving a trail of shattered amps and broken hearts in his wake. But his music, the raw power of his presence—it spoke to me, like nothing else ever had. Even now, years after his death, I couldn’t listen to his songs without feeling a pang of something deep in my chest. Was it love? Maybe. It was hard to say. How do you love someone you’ve never met? Someone who never even knew you existed? But love was the only word that made sense when I thought about him. He was a ghost, a shadow on the edge of my existence, but his songs spoke t...
Read more

Indigo Desolation

Image
INDIGO DESOLATION  Under a sky smeared with grime,   where stars are just faded glitter,   I stumble through the wreckage of my own making—   a lost soul in the alley of regret. The night’s a blanket of filth and forgotten dreams,   no comfort in the scattered, indifferent stars,   flickering like streetlights on their last legs,   mocking me with their cold, distant shine. Every glint up there feels like a punch,   a reminder of every foolish mistake I’ve made,   a constellation of guilt stretched out   like a neon sign saying, “You’re a mess.” The darkness wraps around me like a cheap coat,   no warmth, just the scent of old failures   and the silent screams of a thousand “what-ifs,”   each one gnawing at my insides. Stars, you miserable bastards,   I’m drowning in the mess you don’t even notice.   Here I am, a damn wreck of a human,   and you’re just out there, indifferent,   as always. G.
Read more

Yarın Özel Birgün Olmalıydı...

  Aşağıya doğru düşüyorum, elimde ip yok.. Korkmak istiyorum, ama o kadar alıştım ki buna, artık korku bile uzaklaştı. Hissizim. Her şey o kadar düz ve soğuk ki... Sadece kabulleniyorum. İçimde derin bir huzursuzluk var, adını koyamadığım bir rahatsızlık. Ellerimi ve dizlerimi titreten o ince, keskin sızı... Tıpkı her gece verdiğim o ağır nefesler ve sessiz çığlıklar gibi. Güzel hisler... Ne kadar kısa ve geçici olduğunu fark ediyorum her defasında. En son ne zaman gerçekten mutlu oldum, hatırlamıyorum. O anlar sanki benden çok uzak, silik ve bulanık birer hatıra gibi. Ve yarın… Yarın mı? Yarın'a karşı hissettiğim şey o kadar büyük bir kayıtsızlık ki. Ama bu umursamazlığın bile içimi acıttığını fark ediyorum. Beklentisizlik… Sanki yarına dair tüm umutlarım benden çoktan vazgeçmiş ya da ben onlardan vaz geçmişim gibi. Yanıyorum. Yanıyorum. Küllerim savruluyor, ve o küllerin içinde seni buluyorum. Öyle hafif, öyle gerçek dışı bir his ki… Ama yakıyor. Her seferinde biraz daha derine, ...
Read more

Span

Image
After all these years, they had grown to despise each other… Yet, in a world not quite real, they met once more… Rage burned between them, their hands aching to wrap around each other’s throats… But in the span of a single heartbeat, the world froze… And he let go… Let himself fall into her lap, his body trembling as he clung to her… His arms wrapped around her tightly , desperately holding on, like she was the last thing keeping him afloat… And he wept… “Damn it…”
Read more

If I Stop Talking, the World’s Going to End

Image
There was this girl… her name? Doesn’t matter. Could’ve been yours. Could’ve been mine. She talked too much. Always had. Always did. Always would. Not in that “I love to hear myself speak” way. It was more like… If she didn’t let it out, it would eat her alive. All of it. T he stories, the memories, the pain she never asked for but somehow inherited. Words pour out too fast, too deep, too much. She tells you about her first heartbreak before you’ve even finished your drink. She brings up her childhood trauma mid-laugh. And by the time you blink, she’s already saying, “Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it?” But she can’t stop. She doesn’t know how. Because somewhere deep inside her, where the hurt still sleeps in the fetal position. She believes if she stays silent long enough… you’ll disappear. She had this brain that moved too fast. Tangents everywhere. She’d lose her point halfway through and circle back like she was chasing a thread she dropped in the middle of the sentence....
Read more