Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
As promised, Bogdan opens fire with a short storie -j re crivello (Editor) Something wasn’t quite right in this small, barren room. The man sitting across the square table, dressed in a white coat, seemed a little to calm for someone in reaching distance. ‘I could just reach for that bald head and snap the […]
When you see someone for long enough you get used to them and then you start noticing patterns in their behavior he was their teacher in creative writing weird guy in his late thirties going bald bespectacled pedo mustache scrawny body always wearing dark suits, a bit oversized He sat at his desk and watched the students and the students watched him Why does he always do that? they eventually asked. Why does he always tap his foot when talking to some girl but never when he talks to boys? He would appoint a female student to present her homework or some project or something and stand her up and while she spoke he would stare at her and tap his foot and the tapping would begin light and would grow in intensity strange guy tap-tap-tap ta-rap-tap-tap went his foot as the girls talked "I heard he's divorced," said one…
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Girls with glasses are cute but that's only what I think and she doesn't agree so she's wearing contact lens and she's losing them more often than not and the house becomes a minefield and we have the thread lightly it's just a small apartment it shouldn't be that hard to find them or the one that got lost when only one got lost she would use the other and cover her other eye and look around and point things and tell me to turn them over so she could take a better look and I would sometimes say "I told you" but I no longer do it I look under the cover and the pillows and the sheets and the carpet in shoes, under them pockets, corners, folds sink, toilet, tub one day she covers her free eye and uses the other one to look at her phone "Really…
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He had a big belly but he wasn’t a fat man he wished he was a fat man his daughter was four and she told him that he looked like a turtle born on the wrong side of its shell and mother laughed. He didn’t. Surely he would have if the swelling […]
a turtle born on the wrong side of its shell by Bogdan Dragos
He ate flowers. this mentally challenged boy from the countryside I used to watch him in the fields when I visited my grandparents as a kid He was like an exotic thing a wild beast chasing static pray They had no chance, the flowers he would assault them with a killer’s smile, frothing, and […]
Usually it was after the second pack of smokes that inspiration came into his soul but today it came after the second cigarette And when inspiration hit he'd grab the paper and pen and write letters old style He was a romantic My love, he wrote, this is the 272nd letter I write you, and its subject will be the idea of impossibility. I think impossibility is highly subjective, my love. I for one can climb Mount Everest in my shorts if I want to, but one thing I'll never ever do is get over you. I dream you every night. Every. Damn. Night. And I wake up and grab the dress you left behind and I wrap its strap around my penis like one of those rubber rings meant to make you last super long. I've been doing it for… a long time, love. Believe me…
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Biography:
I was born in 1992 in Romania and had a happy childhood until I went to school. I never had an answer to the question “What would you like to become when you grow up?” and still don’t. But I was lucky enough, after college, to land a job as a dispatcher at a gambling company. There, I spend 12 hours alone in the office (day and night shifts) supervising casinos through CCTV cameras. I like to think I learned a lot about humanity from this. But I also learned a lot about myself. It’s also where I started writing.biog
What is your greatest accomplishment as a writer so far?
That’ll be the publication of my poetry chapbook, “Pour The Whiskey Over My Heart And Set It On Fire”. In August 2020 I found myself with quite a bunch of poems and no audience, so I started submitting a…
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The house doesn't feel like home, mother. Not since you left for the other world after father left for another house from outside town Now there's just me here. And my older brother who is younger than me mentally and will remain so for the rest of his life He still hears whispers coming from every dark corner of the house and because of this our electric bill is enormous I can no longer take this I'm not strong enough I'm not willing enough This cross is too damn heavy. It's breaking my back, breaking my soul I want to get a better job and eventually a car and a wife and start a family I can't do that while taking care of my troubled brother I quit. Tonight I will make his nightmares come true The electricity will go out…
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( ͡ ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡ ͡°)
\╭☞ \╭☞Big thanks for the feature!
a dead body in the room
there was a dead body in the room
Had to be
Else where did the smell
come from?
Every time he’d turn around to catch
a ghost or a zombie
from the corner of his eyes the smell
would slap him
A smell of death
He decided he’d look around for the
dead body
but later
He didn’t have the energy now
or the disposition
or anything
He only wanted to sleep
some more
He just woke up and needed a good
nap to recover
Perhaps there were times when it
didn’t make sense
but now, today, nothing made more
sense that this
All you need is a healthy
dose of chronic depression and it makes
sense
Just like not cleaning the room
and not taking a shower
in a time longer than memory can be
bothered to remember
So he paced back to…
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By Bogman Dragos
the worst part about being alone and sick is being sick but perhaps the second worst is having no one to comfort you He reminded himself aloud that it was his own choice and rolled on the carpet and pushed his thumbs inside his eyes The head was killing him, like the brain grew legs and constantly kneed his eyeballs from the inside, seeking to push them out like caps of beer bottles and exit through the holes And his stomach wasn't any better although it got everything out some time ago The first few coughs came with liquid, pungent vomit but now there was only blood "You can only get what you deserve," whispered the faded silhouette from the mirror. "You might think all this is caused by the bottle of wine you found while dumpster diving as you do. It…
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Daydreaming as a profession 