Paahki Bhatnagar – FEMININE COLLECTIVE

off-white

October 26, 2019November 7, 2019 Paakhi Bhatnagar

Every writer should go to an asylum – she said we all are very sad, the conscious in my head and she said it in whispers we painted blue a numbing bed between my legs two fingers soothing the flood in my throat and the whites of the bathroom floor, Read more

honeycomb

January 18, 2019January 19, 2019 Paakhi Bhatnagar

we grow in towers and in hightides and blossom with the coming of winter in the anomaly of bittersweet outbursts we find some comfort in woolen sweaters. our lack of empathy, guarded in the white cuffs around our necks; there are tears meditating on your face, but we cry rebellion Read more

Atrophy

October 9, 2018October 7, 2018 Paakhi Bhatnagar

The gravel in her tongue atrophies along with the rest of her body, lurid and every bite in is just another bite out. There is a road that travels down her throat and each tongue that rides it through feels the sick burn of falling over cold, tiled floors kneeling Read more

Waves

September 3, 2018September 3, 2018 Paakhi Bhatnagar

Another wave hits the shore. It scrapes the sand and I think that perhaps it’s wanting to be home. My mother always used to tell me that sometimes somethings that are a part of something don’t feel at home in the comfort of familiarity. Behind my precariously hooded eyes I Read more

Drugged

May 16, 2018May 16, 2018 Paakhi Bhatnagar

From the duvets of undivided procrastination I allow myself a narrow glimpse into the fertile garden of my flaws, through the shadowed, omnipresent remorse, I can read a story it goes- she lets herself grow through others she waters herself from the sins they tried to forgive, her unholy chest Read more