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Feb 16 · 48
i never thought i could love or be loved, never thought i could allow anyone to see anything beyond what i specifically offered them. it has forced such direct openness and a selflessness i once was so deeply uncomfortable with. i’m becoming less afraid of someone seeing me so incredibly fragile and weak, unsure about so much, broken down by little things i've been too embarrassed to talk about, thinking they were too small and inconvenient for others to hear. i thought about running, like i usually do, hiding and pretending i didn’t feel anything, that i wasn’t hurting from past mistakes and heartbreaks, like i wasn’t in need of someone to look at me like he does. it’s always been easier. i’d let myself spiral alone, shut people out, pretend as if none of this sadness was destroying me. i didn’t go inwards. i’m feeding into a different vision, i try to believe it every day. i was so sure the future would be me and me alone. i’m trying to believe i won’t be abandoned as brutally as i’ve been before. finally, someone has said to me, without hesitation that they will hear me, and will hold my hand and will keep holding no matter how hard i bite down on it from fright. numbness made me so cruel, i’m learning to lessen the aggression i’ve lived with for so long.

i was so distressed by the idea of being seen as human, of being seen as someone that can be had, be held and be touched. it still scares me, but i’m learning to not be so scared. i don’t feel so agonisingly alone anymore. it’s terrifying, feeling so much comfort, i haven’t felt it in so long, maybe never before. his smile, his laugh, his voice, his hair, his eyes, his body. they’re comfort. it’s hard, there’s anxieties that come with it, anxieties i never thought i’d feel for another living person. i think about how he feels everyday, what he’s doing, whether i’ve hurt him, whether he’s happy, whether he still wants me, every single second of every day there’s an alarm going off in my mind about him, making sure to check in with myself about whether i’m doing right by him, whether i’m doing good enough, whether i’m trying hard enough. ultimately, it’s like a hand, touching a heart that didn’t know it could still feel anything real. it thinks it’s going to die, pressure from thoughts so crippling and thoughts so warm, it doesn’t know how to respond. for the first time, even with all the fear and worry, i can’t really begin to explain how beautiful it all is. i’m becoming more accepting of the complete destruction that would come out of losing him.
Jul 2020 · 187
Isabel Aghahowa Jul 2020
i’m not the evil front you’ve come to know
there’s aches in my centre i can’t show
this heart beats, so silently
and it cries, it never sees the light

if i could
i would set the underworld on fire
set the powers aside, drag the cold
from my mouth
let the souls rest
let my good bless the foul
let my hands feel warm

i don’t want to be left shaking
when i let my fresh skin hit the soil
should i stand from this dark, desert throne
from where i watch world wilt
wither and fall
down to me
May 2020 · 409
you shaved
Isabel Aghahowa May 2020
i woke up to you having shaved your head
blood running from the top of your scalp
bubbling scabs of trauma fully on show

you don’t need to have your guard up all the time
unlike your home, its likeness to army, a battlefield
there’s no bloodshed needed here
not spurted from innocence at least

i need putrid, burning affection
adoration for the calmness of now
of us and of fire not from
a barrel
but from violent acceptance of attraction
of something more than smoked and smothered ground

the bathroom ground, covered in curled up dead hair
smothered by blood

i wish your father hadn’t called
glad to be writing again, honestly it's a relief, in times like this i feel the sensation to write came naturally, so here we are, with a poem about trauma
Oct 2019 · 322
Isabel Aghahowa Oct 2019
the rag from the third leg is out and the table is wonky
i forgot you took it out to wipe my blood off the marble
the white in-between the tiles is still very faintly brown
and you no longer walk on it without socks  
i’m sorry i tried to leave without warning

sprouting sensations depleting, i’m in the numbness
all-natural defeat in my glassy eyes
through the fog you might see a green of grey
my mutated self is in abstraction and in the form of
splotches of sliced
and scratchy skin stuck to the folds and furrows of our shredded bed
shredded from cries and shivers that soak it, my restless fingers tear it
remains torn like the tendons in what resembles a beating heart  
leaving you with no good sleep

bodies hurt and scar when they touch me
yours is now strangely having to be reacquainted

my breaths, laid out and cut on the chopping board
into slices they unravel and tangle
as they fall into the floorboards
slowly becoming lost and forgotten
i’m caving in
i’ve left you with creases
and without a shelter free from the smell of monstrous
misery that we choke on every morning

where is joy
it seems it’s taken my strength
my joints are weak and shaky
i can’t even stand, its very unnerving
how am i meant to carry all the noises
that weight twice as much
in moments like this
of irregular gravity
i’m sorry i tried to leave without warning
Oct 2019 · 338
Isabel Aghahowa Oct 2019
i need some water
to quench my thirsty pain
it has refused to stop swelling
within the gaps around my ribs
forming hard bubbles
as it swallows me in
cocoons me safely into
stiff crooked mazes
dark heartless halls
all of which my mind makes for fun
barriers extended, walls constructed
to let out
only segments  
of hell

this weak and cracked silver dryland
can’t begin no shiny harvest
the crops will die
the hope will follow
the soil is weak the words are hollow
my sweet, my love, how are you doing?
i’m fine, i’m fine, i’m doing fine
i sew my tongue into the roof of my mouth
and bend my lips into the back of my tight throat
beat stubborn tears into watery eyes
and blame the wind the fan spits out

mother, father - we are in a shattered season
of separate flatlands and heavy skies
will we ever be unobscured by forced laughs and family gatherings?
by hills or mountains or sunday church?

may this air force bold breath out of me and you?  
no ordinary small talk will prevent my rage any longer not my small quiet voice from getting larger
we need to speak of the sickness in our heads
or we surely will die
on separate flatlands
on words unsaid
Aug 2019 · 337
diary entry
Isabel Aghahowa Aug 2019
I'm sorry I ran upstairs and left you behind, I was feeling rather overwhelmed and attacked for in my head is a war you are unaware is being waged and barely won. I needed to scream alone and in complete isolation. Scream internally, for screaming out loud is far too piercing, too uncomfortable, intolerable. I am sorry you took offence, maybe it is so I didn't want your company, I am sorry it is this way for us. It’s sad you decide to ultimately dislike, distrust and put no time into understanding the western attitude, an attitude I have come to grow and slowly devour and make my own performance. Take in their love of the bleak, the absurd and the incontrollable. Their wish to understand the mental health of the masses, no they aren't made up and in fact threaten your spawn with vivid flashes at night and in the middle of the day with all the force it has, most obvious in crowds.

How does one go about explaining the looming darkness that hovers above, the dark alleys of depression and anxiety, adhd or aspd, to someone who puts all of their unwavering and immovable faith in God and looks to nothing else to help quench their existential crises or their paranoia surrounding the future. To someone who knows nobody that has gone through the battle, the ongoing battle we fear to speak of too loudly. Someone who has never been educated or confronted by the discussion because the country in which they were born and raised in is stricken with poverty and corruption, leaving no room for emotional or real spiritual journeys. It is exhausting being around such isolated people that stay within their rigid and unhelpful forms, that refuse to change or transform. It is sad to see.

It’s strange, it is rather comforting and pleasant to know that I got out, that I was set free from what could have been a horrible, stifled life. However, it still is my reality that I now flow in-between two opposing worlds with different smells, different voices and widely different places of comfort, as every time I step foot in the country I must still call home, I see a glimpse of who I could have become. It frightens me, makes me feel deeply unsettled. It’s beautiful and tragic. Freedom is in reach, it is there and I can feel it in my toes, holding on in itself is a practice in self growth. Not yielding to the heavy mischief of dry, summer air is in itself already something I hold fondly.
Aug 2019 · 171
Isabel Aghahowa Aug 2019
Too caught up in the breeding hurt to breathe
you’ve been arrested from the peace of oxygen
Too caught up in the brooding anger festering in your stomach
In your lungs, contaminating the honest peach sleeping within you
I talk to myself in third person, it’s all too personal to accept as my own
I hope that when you die, your swollen pain would have birthed healthy seeds for growth
For others whose trees are in danger

I will force my heart to be hopeful
For without hope
Why must I believe in breathing
Believe in holding my body up
Keeping my eyes clear for the world I drink
I’ll leave my pain crushed or folded into tiny pieces of cold, dense paper
And keep it in a box away from shelter
Maybe then it will suffocate
And leave me be
pain is the best inspiration :/
wrote these in the heat of the moment, not my best work but definitely filled with a lot of emotion
Aug 2019 · 362
Isabel Aghahowa Aug 2019
i was born
to be ultimately useless
forthcoming with confusion
self-hatred so ruthless
my anxious bones, so angry and taut
i was born
where tired bones saunter
and stirred into black and unconcerned dips
filled with future's scornful spit, directionless
bashful, lazy
disrespectful, disenfranchised
with a mouthful of hardened snakes
and spiteful chimes

my identity crises  
won’t let me sleep
the permeable molecules of anxiety
will pass through and bite me like fear
my raging inferno
sleeps and rises
as infrequent as self-confidence
i was born
into a noisy world
with a constantly twisting atmosphere
i was born
to be ultimately faithless
alone and grown in the dark
Jul 2019 · 375
glass bottle
Isabel Aghahowa Jul 2019
a monster came out
on a Sunday morning
and broke a bottle on a living room door

running around slow and unhinged
up and down stairs, pressing down handles
chasing mother
into cars
out the gate, the half open gate
we need to decide where to run!
hotel - your mothers - his sisters - inside
decided was sisters, they speak a common language - will pierce through the leather

stumbled steps on and around our bricks
thousand-yard stare of possession
focused and charged by evil
you pushed and a caged nerve burst
and left remnants on our walls
fear turned into impatience
waiting for you to put down the gun
the tension i hope, will collapse and die

apology to wipe clean the whiteboard i keep
inside for marks that can’t be made elsewhere
inside i will make ***** marks
unapologetic and crass
turn my marks into words you can’t take, or shred or twist
the Sunday morning monster will forever have its stain on my ***** whiteboard cloth
put together with lines of forgiveness

i will now turn this mark you made
the monster you and your history birthed
into beauty
Jun 2019 · 4.3k
Isabel Aghahowa Jun 2019
no longer will i live ashamed
of the love i have for the beauty of ***
it leans so closely towards the soul
resting upon its aura

Until proven otherwise
i will continue to live alone with this newfound
pride and fortune
for it will never end this bold admiration i have
for the human body and the many things it creates and devours within itself
all for the purpose of pleasure and satisfaction
i cannot help but be deeply inspired by it all
feel overwhelmed by its thunderous aesthetic brilliance

We breathe into fear
we grow into darkness
and out of a primal and immovable void
as if it was meant to be left unknown
and stuffed into the dark

Often ruined by our tendency to overthink
often degraded or stolen
misjudged and maltreated
no longer is *** ethereal at heart
it now comes with intentions we dig to find
and learn to detest, intensely digest, or ponder
wonderfully and soulfully until it is all rotten

I hope to one day witness fearlessness
and untouched salvation  
beneath the spirit of an *******
a moment unfolded and left unstretched
by time and heavy worries committed to by energy and time
I hope to one day become unburdened and understood
left unspoken for
for these are my words on S E X

One does not have to participate to appreciate its effervescent presence in spaces
it is eternal and wonders like God amongst men
We were blessed and we shall be thankful
for when it is felt in full
by as many as necessary
don't know where this came from honestly but i really like it!
May 2019 · 192
friendship, dead
Isabel Aghahowa May 2019
worthless and stupid
more alone than stuck
getting drunk on and lost in the past
all the things i could have had
if not for fear, it’s torment
it’s disastrous and frightening
claws, foggy and dusty
obscured and distorted
now i sleep on if only’s

point the finger
blame the ones that left me for dead
on a new open journey
with worries i can’t contain alone  
again i run
and try to fight
against my own waves of unnerving, fruitless grief
losing more of my spirit
as months go by slowly
and with imperfect levels of gravity to them

not knowing how to roam alone
for it’s been years since I’ve had to walk the hallways without noise
and clattering voices beside me
and for that i miss the old ways
but the new was sure to cement itself
and breed new beginnings I still can’t see
lead to slight meetings with old faces
that only make me a most impatient beast

friendships buried, kept deep and dead
sorrowful over their end
alone with the memories i now have to tend
new ones i hope i can birth
make right with the bones from left behind homes
ones with a longer lifespan
that create less hard nights
filled with intense open eyes
trying not to cry

why was i never
was feeling bitter over friendships that ended abruptly and without any real reason, decided to write a poem about how I felt instead of spiriting
May 2019 · 397
Isabel Aghahowa May 2019
i laid on your pile, of pleated corduroy skirts, as our

faint and stifled lips,

fell into stubborn submissions, intentions unkempt, and raw

for minutes it was sleep, your kisses travelled with

R.E.M— it was dreamlike love, painless love
inspired by Charles Bukowski's 'Raw With Love'
May 2019 · 357
our soul
Isabel Aghahowa May 2019
how ruined is our soul?

i can feel it shaking and staggering

i’ve run out of preservatives

it is time for its decomposition

its shrunken and withered branches

have curated shocks of misty shame

that cling to our possessive pores
fierce and painful they feel

like our clenched fists

and our knuckles of bruises that whistle

sweet notes into the duvet

many times changed

hiding prophetic pools of the vital fluid

i’m in need of glycerine

for this betrayal  

itches and stings

it once was a tender irritation

made of polished affection

that bled rose petals

and golden honey

we’ve been dipped in lemon

and new, blinding frontiers

that call for separation

from this never-ending loss of ourselves

i’m in need of glycerine

and rosewater
Apr 2019 · 730
thank God
Isabel Aghahowa Apr 2019
warm gun:

Imagining Korine, bleed out in ‘Fight Harm’
imagining his shattered ankle drag across the city sidewalk

Dreaming of seeing Frusciante, live on stage
as he vanishes into his mind, trapped in the sound

Seeing all of Schwartzman’s movies & shows
Rushmore, Spun, Huckabees & more

with the mind of a rock, dish or mold
and with all of pure being  
i avoid a painful death, on the bathroom floor
losing blood in seconds
watching brown turn white

Listening to Labor Days for the 100th time
& all of Aesop’s other classics, Daylight, Rings & Dorks

Listening to alt-J’s - House Of The Rising Sun
as it reinvigorates my wanderlust
with it’s multicoloured soundscape

writing insecurities into black notebooks
crying with a red blanket around my neck
wondering where to put the shame
remembering i have a need to share

Fincher, Kaufman, Guadagnino, Dolan
all i can say is
thank God for cinema
don't know where this one came from, decided to just take a chance with it...
Apr 2019 · 1.2k
Isabel Aghahowa Apr 2019
Here i am again, stuck in conglomerates made of forgotten and downtrodden emotions, that live to be repeatedly crippled by the loud, heavy rain of cities captured by aluminium, filled with lost figures that stray further from reasons to find reason. The celebrations eventually settle, and the seasonal effects grow deeper, the professional buildings in the large, intrusive cities will beg for attention, as i quiver in my cabin on my hill of introversion, remote and entangled in the webs of my mind, as it reminisces about a quiet winter that fears its own bite, and of a storm that slows the world down, and interrupts its noise, for we are helpless to the outside forces we fail to predict.

I will listen to entire eternities of songs until my very being dissolves into a cluster of unembellished sounds, then will dream chapters, and forget them for many days, and live with my frustration until they reappear in more dreams, though now they live in separation, but later will form constellations that will once again save me from my ordinary fears, and from my rush of hatred, in the form of tactile regrets. Any intervention will be met with glares and slight anger, for their words never come with a perspective that aligns with my rage. However, it will always be followed by soft reflections in the form of perfumed apologies that i always feel come from my need for resolutions, rather than any need for something internally revitalising. Here i am again, stuck in depression, with nothing but a will to create. I am an optimistic *******, lost in self-doubt.
Mar 2019 · 857
Isabel Aghahowa Mar 2019
you say you’re radical
as you sling Supreme over your shoulder
you spit logos unto anarchy
and throw brands on broken windows  
as bloodshot eyes
waver and twitch
as they fight obsolete horizons
and default paths

obey, obey, obey
bloodstains on Nike’s name
molotov cocktails litter the land
and cause city flames
that act as spectacles
for blind believers
with obscured visions
of our timeless vocation
Mar 2019 · 5.0k
i am now
Isabel Aghahowa Mar 2019
i am now:
entranced by nostalgia
overcome by the memory of your hold
on my then flaccid, unbroken limbs

tyranny, mistaken for tenderness
violent, tough
unrelenting in your hunt, for the chambers of my heart
for with it came my ill-informed intentions
with your empowering destruction

abnormal, rough
you had become
blood loss: our new warm gun
slowly, liquids drop from our impatient lips
slow enough to become love
in all its meanings
in all its polluted forms
Mar 2019 · 264
Isabel Aghahowa Mar 2019
here comes a heart
from the centre of the crowd
it came without a siren or a warning call
and like a lost dog without its golden tag
it had no owner to wait for at night

like a floating virus
or like an angry child
you didn’t quite know how to handle its intentions
so you lay awake
not knowing whether it will create even more severe
bitter winters
and minted tears
for the morning sun to dry up

you lay awake in fear of this raw heart
not knowing what lies its going to tell
or what truths it will unearth
but you stay in its rogue company
not knowing the next time you will feel warmth
without the help of sirens
or warning calls
Feb 2019 · 408
Isabel Aghahowa Feb 2019
i’ve gotten into the habit
of running ahead of myself
running into walls made of tedious routines
i routinely make
but none for rooted meanings

i stay busy to avoid the
rabid dogs and the heavy rain
for the screams that run around in my ears
have come to mean much more than just running thoughts
but now they are carnivorous beasts
that feed on my nervous breaths

i’m stuck in my room
for it holds my uncensored and unlocked thoughts
for they need to roam free
to not become parasites
and hard to swallow pills

my mind is a retriever
that never learned to sit
or to be at the right place at the right time
it keeps running away out of time
and out of sight
it has left me tired and out of bliss
minds can be messy sometimes, they can't ever seem to stay still long enough.
Feb 2019 · 8.5k
Isabel Aghahowa Feb 2019
i can’t hide from the monolithic machines
that try to take my face
they feed it to the invisible giants
whose words keep bending into nothingness
I can feel the silver limbs growing out of my veins
as they slowly take my place
for this new world order is biology
and is chemically engrained

the portraitures that float above me
live alone in silicone ethers
and have no home
or places for honest solitude
i can’t breathe without the satisfaction
of my voice being heard by figures
this new world order is biology
and is chemically engrained
Feb 2019 · 1.1k
great height
Isabel Aghahowa Feb 2019
you said your mind had come down from the great height
the trenches under your eyes left me with crushing doubt
sleep had escaped your thoughts long enough to leave you without your shadow

you were still stuck in that school-shooter darkness
even though your mother said it’ll fade in time
along with the drugs you take to feel fine

navy blue razorblades buried under your skin
your sleeves, filled with the roads they make
blood out the ears, nose and eyes  
you had faded once again into your pleasant place
that murmured colours of green and yellow into your fingertips
and into your red tunnels birthed from stainless steel

it never lasts long enough for you to be happy
for you always find yourself back in bottomless nightmares
Feb 2019 · 8.7k
the red
Isabel Aghahowa Feb 2019
within the red is life unwoven
an unknown that rests undefined
before it knows it’s end
it leaves traces of its redundance in the shape of senseless tremors
and restless quivers
that leave me paralysed in time

the blood curse 
the ritual of unborn futures  
it leaves me thinking  of
slashing the bonds of my abdomen
for the bittersweet release
of this cascading trauma
will leave me unmade
and free from bloodfilled womanhood
Feb 2019 · 303
frightened child
Isabel Aghahowa Feb 2019
i don’t belong on the sidelines of sandy roads
for they hold a frightened child without bold identity
i don’t belong in-between the warm sheets of the sun
for anywhere that pours down in misty sunlight
reminds me of the roots of the smoke-filled life i once fed

they fed me outgrown words and prayers
they were burned in their undistllled culture
and they ate presumed expectations of behaviour
that my whole body challenged
in slow pulsing waves of rage

i don’t hear my voice when i speak
nor the voices of my mother or father
but rather one i have created out of my new blood
for the one i had was made of shallow waters
and dry, dry ground that shook at night
i bear the hand of my lost head
as it shuffles across the world
and into one that will shake it and transfer
its notions into it, to form one
in-between two worlds divided
and separated

this white light is distilled
i surrender to its drinking water
and with it came the echo of the frightened child
it came in screaming as its tears turned into grime
i still see wiped away tears on my palms
even after all these years of a bold identity
Jan 2019 · 260
holy father
Isabel Aghahowa Jan 2019
my father
the holy spawn
who swims in black and blue catharsis
white needles
now grey and gold
empty gun chambers
that leave dead air for dead deers

the smoke from your frozen lips
causes a destruction that no one sees
except for the Father you keep

you roam around at night
it seems you've lost yourself in the moonlight
you leave trails of dust behind you
when you leave pieces of your life for death to find

i don’t see eyes
i see glass and vapour
and a life, that was left unloved
by a holy one
Jan 2019 · 243
the river current
Isabel Aghahowa Jan 2019
the river chose
to pull you away
to take you into an unknown place
unsafe for your unlearned heart

you hid in trees and fled to empty houses
and ran for miles
from suspected treason  
your river grew wild
and you grew unafraid
of the currents that kept you aligned  

alive in the shadows you became
in the places where eyes didn’t tread
you dreamed an old life into submission
and sang songs that caused showers of dread
for the minds that owned closed doors

take me away and into your open country
where it is safe for youthful rage to reign
for this world is unsafe for those who dream in daylight
Jan 2019 · 609
Isabel Aghahowa Jan 2019
as your heavy hands
lingered beneath the golden light
i heard your heart split open and melt unto mine
it stained the silk curtains
turned them into heavy smoke  
as my veins became filled with all of your ghosts

your skin
as unsheltered and as lonely as mine
frayed at its ends
as it held scars
created by falsehoods

your suit of armour
could no longer hold its own

your steady heartbeats
and slow movements
were filled with fear i couldn't help but keep
wrapped inside my earthly flesh
for your turgid eyes
had sunken into mine
Dec 2018 · 1.1k
Isabel Aghahowa Dec 2018
this Christmas
couldn’t stop the hurricanes
or the thrashing waves of guilt
or the sadness that lives by the windowsill
from crawling back in

I hide in my cellar
I hide in my closet
till I find I am safe
from the echoes of bells

the sun will rise
and I’ll come to find
the world didn’t explode
from Christmas cheer

i can now safety return
to the dry December cold
Dec 2018 · 241
Isabel Aghahowa Dec 2018
her rose-tinted glasses
went crashing into wilted reverie
and was found soaked in dissonant verity
her blood ceased to flow
and the evergreen streets
she walked on
began to float
above all reason
and beyond all desperate credence

hallowed ground
now buried ground
****** is her phantom
for the world is less see-
through than before
Dec 2018 · 1.1k
Isabel Aghahowa Dec 2018
it comes so easy to you
hiding in shells
you can fall and break
and come back together
as if you're not flesh and bone
a mountain made of shame
you say you're a question mark
all is see is a blank slate  
too afraid to be a question
we're all enigmas
waiting to be understood
by someone who can see
through the question marks
and through the rubble of dead promises

no one can see you
when you're in shells
Dec 2018 · 272
Isabel Aghahowa Dec 2018
it was dark and the thunder was growing
along with the screams of the children outside
who were running away from the storm
that was to come
with my hands clenched
and my ribs growing tired
my breaths became restless and weak
as i started to lose control
i fell out of my keep
like a lamb that had strayed afar
there you were
with your deafening heartbeat
as you watched me like a silent hawk
watching its prey
carelessly finding
remnants of an unwinding heart
that had been left sober
on the kitchen counter
we were walking on egg shells
around aquamarine carpets
the mud stains you left
had a form that couldn't help
but fall into tangled pieces of righteous light
that were trapped in the heat of our human pressures
and our unspoken pleasures
your painfully bright emerald eyes
seldom locked with mine  
your razor-edged chin
in my shoulder it found its borough
it laid firmly planted
waiting to feel secure
within my tiny grasp
as we moulded an embrace
that felt like lifetimes that had been and gone
in silence was your comfort
it lived there with laughter
while you floated above the hair on my skin
as your hands exposed bubbling panic
though it was draped in loose tranquility
we found we had lost ourselves
the lights had finally escaped our eyes
we were now alone with the raging tempest
Dec 2018 · 387
Isabel Aghahowa Dec 2018
this stomach ache is causing mental warfare
it has left me in bends and folds
with my exoskeleton in the air
the fractures in my liver
have spread chemicals into the water
i'm losing contact with the surface of the blinded
for i've lost the key to their gated compound

i feel like a rope on its last leg
splintering at every pull
intoxicated by black tears and poisons
as i stand on the sand with my cold, wet feet
drawing blood from my paltry knees

you can dare to struggle and reach for me
i live deep in a dead rabbits home
filled with balloons from funerals
turned into after parties for the living
there you will find my limbs covered in chlorine
as they get ready to swim in black clouds
and empty hospital beds
inspired by Kurt Cobain
Dec 2018 · 842
Isabel Aghahowa Dec 2018
how am i to breathe?
without knowing every breath
and every second that comes with
the one after the next
for the absence of expectation
is nothing but fear
when every moment could be sacred
and could be known to the millisecond

i am precious with your time
i count the steps you take and the ones that will come with it
for i don't know when you will next step
with me there to count
and for me there to think about your every precious inhale
and exhale
Inspired by T.S Elliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
Dec 2018 · 327
Isabel Aghahowa Dec 2018
beneath your addictive smile
was a satin heart
eaten through
to its blackened core
with putrid parasites in holes within
waiting for you to crack

you strut
like you can survive another day
in this primitive world
that you gleefully sleep against
until it leaves you open
to the frequencies of solitude  
and captivating madness
Dec 2018 · 743
Isabel Aghahowa Dec 2018
the scars of red
below my heartbeat
now stir in the warm decay of the air  
the wild eyed towers  
have fallen like waterfalls
into the roots they smouldered and burned  
they now tumble into waves of blinding light  
and i lie in melancholy fields

like cold yellow bathroom floors
and cold yellow flickering lights
i have found comfort in the frigid winds of November
and the ominous light of the crescent moon
for they steal the unwanted sounds
that break the day
and the mania of my soul’s dismay
This poem is about when unique spirits die, and is also about my love for the dark
Nov 2018 · 842
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
sometimes I dream of a recluse by the sea
as he paints the waves into obscurity
as they scream with prejudice
whilst he ponders of all the coffins that lay beneath the ground

the brick walls he rests upon
have sharpened the hole in his heart
and the overwhelming emptiness of world that lasts too long for him to forgive

the pale sreets he prances on
are tempting in their isolation
for isolation always feels adequate
when silence is delivered in fragments
and your heart no longer beats in time with the rest
for it is now sharp, and swollen
Nov 2018 · 2.4k
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
roaming through city streets
swimming in lakes of luminous ink
drifting above speckles of homogeneous aliens
that paint in black and white
for they cannot see the colours of the rainbow
that i see every night
Nov 2018 · 1.0k
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
i've been turned inside out
by this tender emotion i picked up from the ground
it was wet and was wounded  
by senseless gunfire
i've been bursting at the seams on my marinated bed
i've been swarmed by the hush of the quiet storm
and by the warmth of a soft hand, lost in daylight

my bed
soaked by the pain of an early release  
as hefty stallion hearts spew out their endless past lives    
that couldn't hold for a moment more
for the melody of a thousand moons
crept up on them all on that sunken midnight
that was too close to the places that stay awake

i'm being spun into wool
for blankets that will eventually hold memories
that i will surely turn into
no-man's land
this poem is about being betrayed by the day and by the people that come with that sun rise. I have a lot of moments late at night where i am in a place of utter peace and vulnerability, a place where all of my hearts can speak freely and don't have to be on guard, but when day comes, all the armour has to go back on, just so my body doesn't just crumble to the ground, nor my brain. I've been turned inside out by the beautiful things i find at night and by the experiences and the emotions that come with the night time. It is all about the beauty of the night before the day comes, and how it is rendered useless, until it comes back again.
Nov 2018 · 805
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
when the earth settled
i would feel the horse  
by the side of empty roads
walking behind hills of weak grass
and every time i would catch a glimpse of its eyes
it would shatter into a million smooth pieces of metallic light
and as i looked through and into the empty spaces around it
it would return to form
as if nothing happened
like how a tyrant pretends to be an innocent man
for his infant daughter

holy Icelandic horse of heart
oh how you defy my line of sight
and catch off guard
my mental stride
on highways and on silky main roads
you make me paralysed
underneath those power lines
that the birds always seem to find
horses have beautiful eyes, i always think about them when i imagine visceral beauty, they are strong, beautiful creatures and i just love them. They are amazing creatures that are simply stunning to just gaze at for hours. Wanted to write a poem about one, was feeling inspired for some reason...
Nov 2018 · 230
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
in a fragile state
underneath the rocks
in a cave far away
as loneliness is the most
terrible poverty they say

slow moving oceans
winds of ascendancy
tired waves meet the melted shoreline
in an eye of mine
in a different space and time

it's always strange, when the coldest nights
are the ones amongst the hot city lights
and the warmest
amongst the spirits found in the cold freshwater
Nov 2018 · 326
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
maybe the words i said
couldn't contain themselves
into their strict meanings
and suddenly
i revealed my headspace

Suddenly you are a part of it
my dark twisted struggle for
a body removed
with a body that won't
will not
move from its concrete place

it's a different kind of silence
one only few learn about
Nov 2018 · 285
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
each and every crevice of the ocean floor
is a universe

the foundation
for the minds' streets
a means for exploration

indeed, i will find my head
filled with waves and ripples
to accompany the civilians
of the ocean floor
Nov 2018 · 219
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
the sky is a messenger
a catcher of stories from dreamers
a holder of the stars that inspire even non-believers

can the sky hold by confessions
can it be my listener?

when the sky is empty
my dreams are homeless
for nowhere can hold worlds as large as infinity
Nov 2018 · 280
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
i'm travelling
to a further place
a hole in the ground
for those unreaching

i'm drifting
and slowly diving
into a deep space
of heavy rain

i'm walking
into consciousness
beyond the mountain
beyond the plain

into a lifeline
i cannot contain

i can't see
i can't breathe
the same way anymore
Nov 2018 · 813
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
i felt like a lone flower
that lived
once upon a time
in a distant season

a spring flower
stuck in wintertime

in solitude
captivated by my own ritualistic isolation
and misery
Nov 2018 · 1.5k
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
i have these plastics for the skin
and faces for those that lost their own in unkempt households
for those that break apart
that try to hold on for dear life to spirit
as they lose the traction between the spikes
of life untwined
of life with a rewind button
ready to be sutured up again  
by a thunderous regret
and by the peace of the rains of the hills
a life without challenge is not a life at all, i've seen.
Nov 2018 · 201
sad life
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
sad, sad life
they always say to me
i don't go out to parties
or scream aloud my worries

i don't talk in and out of echoes and walls
that stand still and look tall
just to tell you
they can have your trust

sad, sad life
they always say to me
i can't stand loud spaces
or the loneliness that is loudness
in excess

i can't fix my naked holes with short-term lust
or strangers on the move
that only harp on my crutch

sad, sad life
they always say to me
i don't like the wind that the world carries
when i feel like i'm begging on its knees

my sad, sad life
words, words, words
they heal a thousand wounds
but can never seem to heal
the shallow hearts that create them

i count the days
until someone sees
that my sad, sad life
is happiness to me
Nov 2018 · 1.8k
past life
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
when my brain stops beating
and it stops festering in its perplexing notions
and stop-motion contraptions
it's veins and nerves
will turn into strings and wires
for bold machines and troubled moulds to gather
as it floats above the murky water
eating the life it rests amongst

tampering with the wildlife
it so valued, in its shelter
that now lives in ash  
as it melts into the soil and becomes a stone of reclusion  
that looks upon the stars by the coast
and meditates along the margin of its past life
Nov 2018 · 261
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
metal flowers and metal wings
stuck on sandpaper landlines
the ego of the atmosphere is blending in with my inner traumas
and bleeding into my spaces
and into locked cabinets i hid
to protect my caged elephant heart

black and white chaos is the only purity we can understand
on this bohemian shore
Nov 2018 · 227
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
i changed my name
and changed my face
you changed your clothes
and stayed the same

wrapped in cellophane
and tucked in warm
within the trails of gasoline
that led to elevators and stairwells
that looked like answers to puzzles
that our words created

trust is a fatal flaw
i often write on walls that don't belong to me
i etched it onto your back
in hopes it would last longer
in hopes it wouldn't fade
i'm trying to save my dying faith
Nov 2018 · 193
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
blank pages & hard pencil marks in wrong places
all in an attempt to resurrect my soul
from the ditch i buried it in
with the hands of corners
that bleed within their thin marrow
i sit and wait for errors to be committed
to be committed to, for eternity

errors are blank pages, waiting to be filled
with tangerine kisses of hope
until the lead runs out
and the pencil breaks
like the millions of stitches i pry open
stitches on an already presumed dead line of text
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