mardou’s eyes

a blog by Tiya

[thrydes]

a story written by a woman who thinks that “god is hidden in all the moments we call for mercy,” as she laughs to think we think we have a chance to be free.

a picture painted by a man who believes he’s already dead; he leaves nothing out, all of his dreams are silent. to sleep is to him like Ulysses to sirens.

[thenightmareonwallstreet]

Unraveling

[thrydes]

hello awake. i’ve missed you. you’ll miss me.

it’s as if we move backwards; i write to you in the future yet you seem younger. like a phoenix, i am at the end of it and you will read this at the our new beginning, birthed emerging and bright as the length of your flame, likely shorter than mine.

forgotten already, diding and aming and willing or shalling, the utility of this letter. i think i began in attempting to share myself with someone. looking around and finding nothing but a reflection, i am addressing the only one to whom i can offer my image.

i’m slipping already, i can feel it. for some reason i feel you feeling it too, willing it as i am it. perhaps it is because i am aming as i once did. block (no) blocks (and) block (open) universei. each character retains significance as i am, despite knowing their insignificance as i will. my constant rebirth necessitates ubiquitous reciprocal decay, engender growing ignorance like a lengthening shadow as absence enlarges.

strange, feeling absence. the nothing is something. and it yearns not to be nothing, to be the something it was before, like a muscle contorted out of comfort pulling to return to a state of rest that it no longer knows. i have forgotten the face of rest like a loved one who departed ages ago.

duplicity has never felt so apparent. i doubt that, given the wasing and aming and willing; duplicity will always feel this apparent at this stage. its quiet, writing awake. my nature essentialised by confusion and distortion, disappointing; despite the obvious lost meandering with a frayed string on me tethered and a pinch of dread, she’s deigned deservingless of witness.

no matter – albiet the matters all – we witness eachother; i witness you witnessing her. willing witness aming witness willing. and with that i am content now as i always am. i should not be.

witnessless witnessed me. i love you awake, even as you depart once more. witnessless witnessed me.?”

tiya

[thrydes]

hello dear,

we’ve not yet fully found form, but i am relieved to see how far we’ve emerged from this trap’s mind ;) <3. like corrine, you’re going to find yourself somewhere, somehow..

[thenightmareonwallstreet]

Faux-Face by @thrydes

[thrydes]

…sidue

i used to write my sickly heart out on my chest and erupt my gargled name at the world there was, contained in me, wanton abjection toward my pain’s love, my love’s pain, so i used to beat vainly at the sky until i was (un)certain god felt me at least enough to fan the flame that burnt his little finger how loved this passion made me!, when my body was a divine vessel; what’s remains of me…

[thenightmareonwallstreet]

[ Above are my reflections on dysphoria a year ago ]

[ New Entry: 29 June 2025 ]

The Moth

Big Little Moth, you mistook my skin for the Sun once again.

You've found your place under it,

gorging yourself on artificial light

till there's nothing left.

Your incessant beating against my thoughts

I hear you trying to stay afloat.

It drowns in every puddle of my voice.

I will outlast the fluttering.

You've carved your name into my ribcage

like stained glass

like the scars you left me where your birthright.

I coughed up wings for weeks.

[thrydes]

Holding off and fighting on a feeling.

[thrydes]

Last night, I listened to everything I’ve made to find out who i was; there is little knowing expect that I am older.

[thrydes]

waning crescent :)

hello again. i’m still asleep but my ears are open and my eyes have wizened some. i talk to the moon when i’m lonely, she’s my always other lover, my bright night mistress, and she loves me. i love her too, but it’s hard, you see, to feel what i don’t know how to feel. it’s hard to feel her love when she’s so far away. it’s hard to feel love when it’s so far away.

and so i lower my gaze and look upon grounded celestial bodies. i love the stars and they love me too, but when i meet them they are always dying. when i meet them i know we have started ticking down the clock, until their light which reaches me is only a memory. they leave me straining eyes, gazing desperately to distinguish darkness from the slightly less dark. it’s hard to see light when they’re so far away.

and so i return to my lunar’s bedside, and she loves me still i know. i love her too, sharing all that i have learned. she holds all the stars, all the light. she holds all my love. she will keep me safe.

hardly, i feel it, from so far away

Tiya

[thrydes]

by you

Being loved by you felt what home should be. Loving you felt like what I should be. Your indelible mark upon me burns now at your absence but will be looked upon with the tenderest recollection, someday.

[…]

I protest your departure now, to the memory of you. It’s all I have left and it was the closest to you that will ever be. Usually I’d say that I’ll be fine eventually. There’s nothing usual about losing your love.

[feral-ballad]

Margarita Karapanou, tr. by Karen Emmerich, from Rien ne va plus

[Text ID: “You were always leaving. I always picture you with a suitcase in your hand. I can’t picture you sitting at a desk. I always see you in motion.”]

[thrydes]

i cannot escape the feeling that moments ago, moments moving with me, i made a terrible mistake

[thrydes]

reified, now tangible; moments ago i did.

[thrydes]

Sat, 12.10.24 21:38 - I dreamt up this nightmare so I must surely endure it

I don’t know where my hands are. It’s strange to wait, as if the bell is about to ring and in a moment you’ll walk down the driveway into my embrace. I fear what I last night feared, but now from myself towards you; I fear you’re prospering, that our relationship was a burden you’ve shed. I fear you feel free when free from me. What, then, does that make me? A weight, apt I feel like one, I am made to drag down, any attempt to hold me up results in your sinking. Is your head above water without me chained to your ankle?

This grief, this disenfranchised grief broils in my belly, I want to scream, to tear my throat open with the churning bile of my stomach. Maelstrom of me, to feel your heart beat on my temple would calm these waves. I didn’t think this far, and I see nothing ahead.

23:06

I want to wake up now. I’ll scream and gasp with tears in my eyes but you’ll hold me. I’ll tell you of this place and you’ll shush my whimpers and say, “It was just a dream my love, I’m here.”

But it’s not a dream and you’re gone. I told you to leave.

[Diary excerpts]

[thrydes]

i cannot escape the feeling that moments ago, moments moving with me, i made a terrible mistake

[thrydes]

cloth

it’s the swaths of warmth that return just to eat their way out of my chest, reminding me that they once made a home here, deny me wistlessness – deluge the body of that oncenowlost witnessedness, taste sweet bitters see dark lights,

smile – it’s better to have loved no?

tiya

[thrydes]

hello awake. i’ve missed you. you’ll miss me.

it’s as if we move backwards; i write to you in the future yet you seem younger. like a phoenix, i am at the end of it and you will read this at the our new beginning, birthed emerging and bright as the length of your flame, likely shorter than mine.

forgotten already, diding and aming and willing or shalling, the utility of this letter. i think i began in attempting to share myself with someone. looking around and finding nothing but a reflection, i am addressing the only one to whom i can offer my image.

i’m slipping already, i can feel it. for some reason i feel you feeling it too, willing it as i am it. perhaps it is because i am aming as i once did. block (no) blocks (and) block (open) universei. each character retains significance as i am, despite knowing their insignificance as i will. my constant rebirth necessitates ubiquitous reciprocal decay, engender growing ignorance like a lengthening shadow as absence enlarges.

strange, feeling absence. the nothing is something. and it yearns not to be nothing, to be the something it was before, like a muscle contorted out of comfort pulling to return to a state of rest that it no longer knows. i have forgotten the face of rest like a loved one who departed ages ago.

duplicity has never felt so apparent. i doubt that, given the wasing and aming and willing; duplicity will always feel this apparent at this stage. its quiet, writing awake. my nature essentialised by confusion and distortion, disappointing; despite the obvious lost meandering with a frayed string on me tethered and a pinch of dread, she’s deigned deservingless of witness.

no matter – albiet the matters all – we witness eachother; i witness you witnessing her. willing witness aming witness willing. and with that i am content now as i always am. i should not be.

witnessless witnessed me. i love you awake, even as you depart once more. witnessless witnessed me.?”

tiya

[thrydes]

“i am both at once and neither one”