Bismillah

I've destroyed every story by writing it.

[fariha-now]

my country, so small, fits at the napes of your favorite shirts & you know not of her  struggles stitched there, nor of her children. two, three washes and i was never here.

Made in Bangladesh 

[fariha-now]

Definition of living

Living is electronic

seasonal

and creative

bending rules

no limit

get what you want

[fariha-now]

[fariha-now]

[fariha-now]

I remember the blue and purple lightning behind your eyelids your irises-- sinkholes for desires entombed i'm obsessed with the way your lashes curtain a smile i'm a fly droning around your words

this must be what they call madness.

the hearth inside my heart, barely glowing but burning to invite you home i could be play doh, shaped into your want

this must be what they call madness.

I wish it was real I wish for it to be real

I wish for it all to be snuffed out-- like blowing out a candle.

[fariha-now]

Canopy Shyness

the vessels and the nerves, the tree in my body, rooted in longing

forever reaching and never touching like Michelangelo’s creation of adam, limp fingers growing around others

wishing for one rib to embrace another but weighed down by boles of wants and, I can't seem to reach--

(you).

[fariha-now]

This Country

This country you've murdered, I walk its streets made out of blood of the martyrs-- an innocent shoe, a crushed dinner table, pulverized glass.

I tip toe from their bedrooms to kitchens to family rooms, from one death to another, one blood to another, albums of death strewn around the city.

This country awashed in unjustifiable well of grief, I walk its streets with wounded bodies and starved animals, we wait and wait, with a continent of desolation.

[fariha-now]

[z-thwri-deactivated20250228]

[fariha-now]

give me a match

a kiss

a punch

i want violent ripping—

wolf claws and fangs

deep into the rib cage

savage yanks and ache

maybe we can light up these hands

watch the words spread like wildfire

perhaps creation awaits

destruction; perhaps in death there is

life

[prudishchanteuse-deactivated202]

İ wish i had the mental illness that makes you get a phd

[fariha-now]

Growing Dizzy

watching the clothes spin my thoughts in a merry-go-round i'm reminded of the color wheel beginning with the sun, tumbling down down down the heat, the burn, my skin a furnace, our words scorching off the gentleness that we had found in a glade of grass, our first meet.

did we really meet in the heat of spring? or was it when the leaves were burnt and falling?

my memory--a mad whirl i sieve our moments and feelings and there are purple and blue fingerprints that were never in the peripheral before

moments back in a circle or is it a full circle moment the clothes keep spinning the sun bright as ever

did i dream up the colors in my head?

[fariha-now]

Don’t know when it happened but I’ve stopped looking for words in the everyday, mundane world and it has cost me. I’ve let go of something I didn’t fully value at the time. I reflect on my day when I can and I find ordinary moments that aren’t worth mentioning. I’m too weary to find words in these ordinary moments. I keep thinking about it and picking at it, peeling the layers to get to the core. What a small ordinary core that is. So much has changed in this life and yet nothing has changed at all.

[ashstfu]

x / sylvia plath

[fariha-now]

Just another Saturday

A window of sunlight My unmade bed and books in disarray An empty coffee cup with coffee stains

I hear the bathroom pipes gurgle  The pigeons croon and the trains screech Two floors above—is it French music?

A waft of caramel creamer,  Marijuana and fresh laundry

A quiet weekend; a slow life For now.

[fariha-now]

Tempestuous water

Back on the blue infinity

I drift, with water as my guide,

The cotton candy sky

And think peace

[fariha-now]

i fall a little bit out of love with words every time i sit down to write and find nothing.