Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
Visit Gobblers/Masticadores and find more writings you can enjoy (⊙‿⊙)
there's nothing good on TV when you're in a crap mood "Shit," he thought. "Nothing's gonna be good on TV for the next 18 years. At least." he sighed and shifted his position on the couch four days till New Year's Eve and he already got the greatest gift one could wish for. A positive pregnancy test from his girlfriend Oh, he was over the moon and everybody knew "Meh, I don't need TV. I'm the best actor I've seen..."
Don't forget to check out and follow MasticadoresIndia to find more writings to enjoy! Thanks (✪‿✪)ノ
it was a sad
sight
lately
and the sounds coming
from it were even
sadder
Such was the house
of humans
Full of shouts
and objects banging and
breaking against the walls,
curses against gods,
against parents,
death threats,
agony
and grief
and pure rage
destruction
But not being humans
the two of them
watched from outside,
from their enclosure
outside their pen
“It’s the destiny of
all humans,” she told
him
“To fight each other
to death?” he asked
She nodded
her big, fleshy head,
making her ears flap. “That’s
right. The curse of
those humans is that
they’re trying
too hard
to place a male and
a female in the same space,
have them share the
same life
and actually expect it to
work out. How foolish.”
“Is there really
no way
it can work out?” he asked
“Ah, you’re so young. Barely
more than…
View original post 205 more words
That did it He was tired of coming home from work and finding a fucking book on the table instead of food but the book was also on his pillow when he went to bed on the toilet tank in the garage in the shed behind the house and on the dashboard of his goddamn […]
a self-published book on how to quit smoking By Bogdan Dragos — Gobblers / Masticadores // Editores: Manuela Timofte / j re crivello
Don't forget to check out and follow MasticadoresIndia to find more writings to enjoy! Thanks ヽ(•‿•)ノ
she hadn’t been his wife
because her religious family would never
allow their sweet treasure
to marry a lowlife like him
But she had been his girlfriend because
she needed to rebel
against her family somehow
But very little of that mattered now
She was no longer among
the living
and it was her own choice
Enforced by two fistfuls of pills
and half a bottle of 65% proof vodka
Her family was beginning
to forget her
now
Suicide was something not even Jesus could
forgive
“I’m stronger than Jesus himself then!”
he shouted in the
hand mirror she left behind
at his place. “I forgive you! And I
still love you.”
He smashed the hand mirror against the wall
and knelt amongst the
shards
They watched him from below
with crimson eyes
Eyes that reminded him of hers when she was
crying in his arms,
talking…
View original post 165 more words
The world was growing colder because the weather was akin to people’s hearts, he was told in a dream The people had denied him the world and he was left with the backstreet dumpster And he had to share the backstreet dumpster with the dogs Or rather the dogs had to share it with him Regardless, they agreed and at least this corner of the world was a little warmer
he deliberately chose the nastiest sound for the alarm clock Zeeeehhweeeehhchhh and there it went again Every four hours. Announcing that he had to start the engine again lest he froze to death The phone had 17% battery left. He would need to visit the library again for a recharge but it was becoming increasingly […]
keeping that spark by Bogdan Dragos
Don't forget to check out and follow MasticadoresIndia to find more writings to enjoy (─‿‿─)♡
To work at the peak
of the desert heat
The adults told him he’d need
an injection for that
and the man dressed in white
grabbed his arm and lifted it
and stung him with the needle in the shoulder
and injected the serum
It took away all doubt
from his mind
and all weariness from his heart
and limbs
He was ready
“Good boy,” the adults said
and patted him on the back
They gave him an assault riffle,
one he’d held and used
before for practice,
and sent him out of camp
and towards the enemy soldiers
It’ll be fine
-BOGDAN DRAGOS
Bogdan Dragos supervises casinos for a gambling company, working twelve-hour shifts locked in a dark office full of TV monitors. There he mostly daydreams and writes poems and stories. He also manages a poetry blog Daydreaming as a profession.
View original post 13 more words
Visit Gobblers/Masticadores and find more writings you can enjoy (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀)b
It is known You can never hold on to an adventurer and she was one And she was gone and he stood by the window and smelled the guitar she left behind, not knowing how to play it A girl like her travels around the world like a sailor and loves many boys and men and they never forget her The one mistake they all share is trying to lock her in their world It’s like trying to capture the sun’s light in a bag and take it into your dark house Women like her are responsible for men who call themselves romantics and write love poems and dream He struck the cords of the guitar once. Looked out the window. Warm, sunny day. Streets busy with children running fast, passing by adults who walked slow
Don't forget to check out and follow MasticadoresIndia to find more writings to enjoy (▔▀ ‿ ▀ )ლ ▂▂⌇
that guitar is useless in
his hands now
He spent over ten thousand
hours playing
It’s all he does, really
He has all the time
in the world
after the accident that
rendered his legs
useless
He sits in bed or in
the wheelchair all day
and plays the guitar
but it’s all useless
He’s lacking the fire
in his eyes
All his songs are the
same song
A sad tune
And the lyrics are all in
his mind
and they’re darker than his
eyes
Colder
The other day his
mother found a
knife in his room,
under the mattress
He said the guitar wasn’t
enough anymore
The guitar was fine so far
because the cords
brought feeling
to his fingers
but now that the fingers
had gone completely numb
with thick skin
he wanted to
pick up the violin
for a change
-BOGDAN DRAGOS
Bogdan Dragos…
View original post 52 more words
sunny day outside
streets full
of people seeking water
and cold beers
overcast day inside
the cold, irregular walls
of the basement
in the abandoned building
The clouds are alive
and very annoying
She slaps his forehead
with a sloppy hand
soaked in vomit
“Ouch!” he screams
And she says, “I can’t stand
these fucking
fruit flies. Why must
they follow everywhere we go?”
He turns around
on the wool blanket and
shoves away a few empty bottles
of cheap wine
and
drops his head onto
her naked lap. “Because, baby, we’re
putrid. You and I, we’re both
dead on the inside
and out. And the fruit flies
love the smell
and taste of our bodies. Especially
when they come
together and sweat a lot.”
His hand grabs at
her upper thigh
and the fingers
tap playfully along the
piano-key-like cut marks
that adorn it
View original post 333 more words
Daydreaming as a profession 