su curudu, adimdan gayrisini bilmiyorum

I’m locked in a closet

for seventy two days

Only the air and a faint light is leaking inside

through the key hole

Loneliness is neither divine

nor spectacular

It’s just a huge dark spot

between past and future

or between life and death

A purulent spot without a past or future

In between life and death

What now exists is just air and light

Leaking through the keyhole inside

I destroyed all my memory

I burned it with a candle

And scratched with a razor

And blew all the ashes

I don’t know anything else

other than my name

The darkness consumed all the times

There was no night outside

And no voices inside me

Only two things I wanted to know

-or the same thing, twice-

What was the color of the walls?

What was the color of my skin?

I’m touching the walls

With my finger tips,

With my palm

With my tongue

The walls should have a color

That no masons, no painters would know

That color didn’t have a name

Or a chemistry

Maybe it was the color of colorlessness

Or the smell of a rotten body

I don’t know anything else

other than my name

The water that I saved

for seventy two days

and that I touched only once every day

with my lips

the last sip of water

stayed in the bottle with a sulk

and killed itself

even the water rotted away

I don’t know anything else

other than my name