Thana Aurora Moriarty

-

who is going to reach inside my guts and rip them out of my heart

or push two fingers down my throat

and make me vomit them?

no one would

and then I would take them to my grave.

“nobody cares about what I have to say”; you think.

you’re wrong. i do.

i need you to do your job as a human,

as a lover, a hater,

a friend, a foe,

a wild beast, an innocent,

a jester, a villain —

and give those words inside you the voice they need.

if you don’t give your voice to these words

they will never see the light of day

and they are no less important — or more important — than other people’s words

but they are yours, uniquely

in the same way you are the only You that will ever exist;

those words, that voice,

are the only You that will remain

after you depart from this world.

so let them out. let them be heard. purge them. spit them.

some people will frown, some might enjoy, most might not even read it.

but the most important thing is that you shined a light on them —

we may live and die in darkness,

but let us lay our souls bare into the light.

the words alone possess no ego, no reason to hide

and they are the only thing we will be able to leave behind

our fingerprints forever pressed onto the wet concrete wall that is this experience called being alive.

you owe it to yourself

as the sole window to all of your inner visions

to invite everyone to take a peek into your wonderful inner world:

right now someone you’ll never meet

on the other side of the globe

is feeling like they don’t belong,

and maybe your words —

the very same words you despise —

are the home they needed all along

that comforting, indescribable feeling

that somewhere, someone felt like them;

they weren’t, they are not,

and as long as people like you exist

they will never be alone.

but only if you give a voice to your words.

because,

Some lead us places, most lead us to more questions.

My passion for philosophy and questioning

Crashes directly with my lifelong anxiety,

My eternal hyper vigilance that holds me in captivity

My sense of self is as volatile as ether

Your applause is my main worth-meter

I think you hate me because I’m an eager speaker

Don’t worry, I’m not much of a listener either

I’ve been talking to Myself and I think she hates me too

Even though I did the best that I could do

Can she remember all that we’ve been through?

And how against all odds somehow we both grew?

I have lived so many lives in 29 years

Many lies, tries, guys, and almost careers

I have died 3 times in one day and I’m still here

Yet remains the fear, that like a captain, perseveres

When the waves — predictably unpredictable,

Threaten the very existence of him and his peers.

There is no answer, and my dread is draining,

The inquiries take over my days,

This endless seeking is sinking me.

So for my last question, tell me, please

Shall I compare thee to the best day of my life?

Or will all the happiness I’ll ever experience just not suffice?

The Gods have created mankind and sent you as an apology gift,

yet you’re so humble you’ll laugh if I tell you you’re the greatest thing that ever lived.

You belong in nature;

to say that you belong in a museum

is to say that they should cage you;

and how could the world ever survive

if deprived of the tender touch of your sharpest knife?

Take me to your country,

take me to your house

Teach me how to live

as we sit on your holy couch.

Show me how to read your mind,

how you’re not sweet but you’re so kind

I’ll leave everything behind

to be the night owl you’ll confide in.

We could stay in Dublin,

or in a cottage, growing jasmine

A mausoleum full of vermin,

I’ll wrap you up in sheets of satin.

It’s burning,

all this urging, all this yearning.

Don’t have to see it as concerning —

Mary Magdalene had Jesus, her weakness;

I’ve got the webs that I’m weaving

Hoping to feed off your genius,

Your mornings and your evenings,

Your writings and your beatings.

What else is a devotee to do?

i cannot blame her for meeting you

i cannot handle anymore of this sorrow

can no longer live on this beg and borrowed

for some things i’m so methodical;

when it comes to this I’m never rational.

so please just leave my bedroom,

leave every thought i have,

I have no more strength to deal with this,

would you just do that for me, please?

…if you knew me?

would you

jump ship

save me

and erase my fake memories?

would you pity me

if i asked for a lobotomy?

eternal sunshine, a spotless mind,

and we’re both free.

we could both be free from me.

(the poem wasn’t intentionally inspired by the song but the title of the poem was.)

the railway station is a busy place,

countless trains stop and leave.

I sit on this same iron bench everyday,

held there by the spirits of faith,

and even the spiders have found in me

a steady space for their webs to weave.

with my eyes fixed I watch the trains go by,

the trails squeak and the whistles blow.

the passengers’ don’t even see me anymore —

the woman who merged with the brass

for she’s not sure where to go.

her biggest fear is that she’ll grow old,

the spiders will die and new ones will show;

the legend will spread, new passengers’ll know:

the statue on the iron bench

is a lady rotting while waiting for the unknown.

and she’s waiting, and she’s waiting.

she’s waiting and she’s waiting.

she’s waiting and she’s waiting.

at what moment in my life did i become so obsessed with being happy all the time? so scared of everything, even my own thoughts? when did i start numbing every emotion that wasn’t pleasant? when did i start running away from everything and everyone?

when did i stop living life with its ups and downs and started being terrified about not being in a constant state of pure bliss to the point of considering ending things whenever I don’t feel good?

where did she go?

…and how can I find her?

if i hear your voice and see your face

i can smell your perfume

even if you’re at your place

ten thousand miles away

and you haven’t worn it in the last decade.

it smells like san diego zoo

singing Chicago’s “Nowadays”

the 4th of July, UCLA

inside jokes about film cliches

and all the things we left at the bay

when we thought we would never go separate ways

sixteen candles and Broadway dreams

all turned to smithereens

you ran off to find yourself and you’re living the life

i’m still searching for mine

we used to be Glinda and Elphie

now the movie’s out and you’re not here with me

I guess the song is true

nothing stays

it was gonna change and we knew

deep inside, under all that fear,

all that guilt and need of penitance,

all that nonsensical sense of responsability,

all the feelings of impending doom and reckoning.

you know what you want to be.

you know what you need.

but it's just so many layers,

it's so deep, and so hard to see.

it's better to say you're lost than to admit –

So safe, so peaceful,

So alive, so free,

Nothing can reach me.

My head out the car window, wind in my hair,

Everything is fine and I don't have a care

Because I sense it in the air, you're right there.

Yet there's this melancholy, this uncertainty I can't quite name.

Things are so different and yet they stayed the same.

I know you're here, I feel you near

Oh, poor dear — the one she loves is just a reverie.

The way they call their mates, ethereal.

It can also be distracting,

or downright annoying.

Outside my window there’s a square

Where birds start singing at 1am sharp, I swear

Every single night there’s a bunch of them there;

Attempting slumber is now the nightmare.

We are taught to love their music

Even if it turns you manic,

Conditioned to find it romantic

When it makes you psychotic.

You want to cry yourself to sleep

You want to get buried in concrete

The morning they reach, suddenly they sound so sweet

Yet I still can’t sleep — is it really the birds or am I the one to beat?

The birds from my backstreet

Will continue to tweet

There’s nothing to do, nowhere to flee.

They have no place to go either,

There are no more trees.

They are stuck where they don’t belong,

Once the lights were too bright

Flames in the sky

So I dug a hole to hide.

For a while feeling numb was feeling high

Taking a vacation from life

I dug a little further from the light.

The ground covering me made me feel safe

Made everything that hurt fade

Imaginary friends erase your hauntingly real gaze

I turned my mind into my sacred place.

Suddenly replace became replay

Another face, the same cliché

I realize I’m trapped, this is actually a grave —

I keep digging further down, then I beg to be saved.

To those who ask I say I’m okay.

That I think I got it, I’m climbing up higher each day.

I confess, occasionally I do feel that way,

But most of the time I want to merge with the grave.

Then there’ll be no more ache,

No more heartbreak, no more hate.

I'll luckily join the underworld of Hades.

Til then I’ll just stray further away

Every single day

Into this cave that I dug within —

___________________________

you said in a laughter:

“we would never work out together.

we would end up drunk on some motel room

fuck relentlessly, high volume

we would trash the whole place,

empty bottles and then soon

police would find us and say,

‘double suicide, I assume.’”

you said it like you wanted that

like you wanted to be found dead

like I was the only one who’d dare

to go with you and not be scared.

and you were right.

back then to die by your side

would be a heavenly way to die.

holding hands as we tainted the sheets maroon

partners in crime, funny night, impending doom

our loved ones would cry, say “we’re gone too soon”.

but I worshipped you, to the moon and back —

even if that meant no oxygen, past the atmosphere;

yes, i would have proudly followed you to death, my dear.

the honor to live the nightmare of having you so near.

He always went out of his way to belittle me. To make me think I didn’t know enough about music - the one thing I’ve loved all my life. From “uh this band you like is just AWFUL”, “no way you’re choosing the playlist” to laughing at my face for calling an instrumental outro a solo and leaving me drunk alone without a phone in the middle of the night to go babysit his grown up drunk friend, or making me wait for hours at a random bar completely alone because he was drinking with his buddies (and then showing up to our date with said buddies), the red flags were so much that if I’d collected them, I could have built my own golf course. ⛳️

And I still didn’t leave, because at the end of the day, he always acted like he needed me. Or his bff (who used to be in love with him) would write me a “secret letter” and slip it inside my pocket, written “I think he really likes you. He’s just bad at showing it. Don’t give up on him”.

We both loved metal. I guess that and alcohol were the only things that we had in common. He was obsessed with Pantera, so of course I had to pretend to like Pantera, how am I a fan of metal if don’t like Pantera, right? I really tried liking Pantera.

I hate Pantera.

Maybe someday I’ll like Pantera. It is most likely than me ever liking him again.

Because today I have friends that don’t think I’m basic because I love Metallica and they’re “practically mainstream”, or because Arctic Monkeys is on my top 5 favorite bands. I don’t have to prove I’m a sexy metalhead because I touched myself for the first time in my life to Rammstein’s “Pu**y” music video. I don’t have to lie about not liking pop or pop punk.

I’ve learned I don’t have to be a fucking stereotype just because you were one. I don’t need to cut out parts of my personality to make myself “worthy” of you. If anything, I realize now I was too much for you. I’m chimerical, whimsical, creative, funny. I am a multitude of personalities inhabiting a single body. I feel like for the first time in my life, I know my worth. And it’s not in the backseat of your reckless drunk buddy’s car. It never was.

Gotta thank you for the guitar model recommendation when I started playing though. It was really on point.

Oh, that day you left me waiting for hours at a weird bar? I met a guy there. Told him I was with someone, and he waited with me until you arrived. There was a jukebox there and we bonded over The Doors. Up until very recently he was still after me. We went on one date, but I immediately realized he was just as emotionally unavailable as you (for different reasons) — he just happened to be a lot nicer. I’m really done with emotionally unavailable men. There were others after you two. I’m just tired. I don’t like playing games I know I’m gonna lose, not anymore.

You did leave a lot of boxers here. I hope you don’t mind I’ve used one of them to paint a wall. I guess underwear is disposable anyway.

Like I was to you, and you were to me.

Strangers to lovers, and strangers again.

(Here’s a song I love, and I love telling people that I love it. You would definitely HATE IT HAHA. But I think this sums up what I felt at the time:

“I don't wanna call it off,

But you don't wanna call it love.

You only wanna be the one that I call ‘baby’”