internet education

There was a knock in the door
at about six AM

He wouldn't have opened if
he didn't check
through the peephole. It was
his aunt. Why would
she visit at a time
like this?

When he opened the door
she slapped him
across the face. "You fucking
monster! You had the money, you
motherfucker! You had the money all along!
You could pay for your mother's operation
and you didn't. You watched
her die in horrible
pains! How can you live with yourself?"

Ah yes, he knew what she
was talking about. But there
was no point explaining. He
closed the door in her face

went back to bed

"Who was it?" his girlfriend asked. "Another
one of your crazy exes?"

"No. It was my aunt who doesn't
have what I call internet education."

"What?"

"Internet education, dear. Rule number
one: not everything you see
on social media is true. Just because
I pose at the wheel of a brand-new
Lamborghini doesn't mean I own
the damn car and am therefore
rich as fuck, you know?"

"What kind of idiot would think that?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised..."

APATHY

She came from work pretty early
and I knew when I
saw her that
she quit yet again

She changed four jobs in the last
five months and
got a tattoo that said APATHY
on her lower back

Her father died five months ago. He
died of what's called
almost-drunk-driving
He was sipping on a beer bottle while
driving fairly slow
on a country road
But the front wheels hit some log
or something
and the impact triggered the
airbag
It bloomed in his face and stabbed
the beer bottle into
his eye
causing him a major trauma to the brain

R.I.P
old man.

Maybe not your wife but
your daughter sure will miss you

She's coming from work
dirty and ragged
Approaches me and demands a cigarette

I give her a small lighter

and she tells me to go
fuck myself

"Well you're done with work
early today," I tell her.

"I quit," she says.

"Really? What was it this time?"

"What's every time, deepshit. The boss
or the coworkers or
the customers. Or all of them.
Motherfuckers expect you to work on
holidays. Imagine
that. Like, Christmas is in three
days, for fuck's sake."

"I work on holidays," I say

"That's cuz you's a pussy-ass-bitch
who won't say no when you
mean it. You're like...
all the rest of 'em."

"Maybe," I say. "But also, if I'm at
work I don't have to be with my relatives
and that's
a plus in my book."

"Pff, yeah, whatever. Lend me
a ten, will ya?"

"Best I can do is a five. And you
can keep the lighter." 

Backstreet Dumpster

Dream Noir

by Dragos Bogdan

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.

Artist: Anna Garrett

Dragos Bogdan works as a dispatcher for a Romanian gambling company (supervising casinos) and part of the work means spending twelve hours alone in the office which is perfect for observing people, daydreaming, and writing poems—which he primarily e-mails to himself.

Web| HP

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To justify all the hurt inside

like a popular song once said

She couldn't remember a time
when she felt needed

So she wrapped the
blanket around
her and cried while biting her
lips

oh, but it wasn't entirely
correct. In the other room
the old man kept
shouting her name
and knocking on the wall
He'd soiled his
underwear
again and needed help changing

She was very
needed now. She'd been needed ever
since mother left
for the last time and father followed
her
drunk as he was
and rolled the car down the hill. He wanted
to hit mother and her
new man with the car
and missed
And now his legs wouldn't work anymore
and his imbecile daughter
didn't take care of him
the right way

"The right way..." she said. "Is to
let you rot. Let your
body match your soul, old man..."
She placed the
pillow over her head
and closed her eyes
and remembered
the song

If love was red
then she was... 

somehow he always got grounded

they all gathered around to hear
the little girl sing
and she seemed so happy
about it
she had to cry first
But they wouldn't dare join her in her
cry and instead cheered and
urged her to carry on

Sing

And she opened her mouth
to sing 
but her mouth was wrong
in as far as singing went
broken
askew
defective
And she kept on singing
and they smiled brightly and dared
not flinch as she sprayed their
faces with spit

but eventually her mother started crying
and father embraced mother and
guided her red face against his
chest and started crying as well
and buried his red face in her hair

Our daughter is so talented
Oh God, oh dear God, so talented

And they began to pray
silently
and the aunt prayed she won't have
to name the song the little girl was singing
Oh God...

And the little girl went
pffff pfff brrr wa pfff chhh pff
with her swollen tongue between the 
deformed lips
and surveyed the crowd and wondered
why her cousin wasn't present

Well, it was his loss
somehow he always got grounded
before her concertos

What an idiot 

Mr. Big Walrus

as usually
not much going on at her place

“Why did you
insist
on coming here?” he
whined

And she watched him with
scrutiny. “What? You don’t like
it?”

He looked around. “To be honest,
your hobby scares me. You
design dolls and
plushy toys for a
living. They even watch us
as we fuck. I can’t
stand this place, and don’t know how can you...”

She stood from
the bed
walked over to a pile of plushy toys
dug in for a brown hippo
and reached up its ass
and her hand
returned with a small bottle
of brandy

“Shit,” he said.

She tossed him the bottle.

He caught it.

“Right,” she said. “Now, why
don’t you
enjoy your treat and keep
some company to
Mr. Big Walrus there in the corner
while I get
back to work. I’ve some
commissions to honor.”

He opened the bottle
smelled it
Nodded at her and
went into the corner of the room
where Mr. Big Walrus
awaited
warm and fuzzy 

Bogdan Dragos

Horror Sleaze Trash

cartoonist

Dad was fat all his life
Obese
He couldn’t do a lot of things.
Walk without special help
Bathe
Climb stairs
Sit in a normal chair
Drive a normal car
Sleep in a normal bed
And say “I love you, son.”

To draw those words out
of his dad he became a cartoonist,
but that also failed.

And now that his father
was dead,
collapsed face down
on the kitchen floor,
blood seeping out of a head wound,
he struggled to turn him over
on his back
and dipped his finger in the blood
and drew a speech bubble
next to his father’s head
and wrote in it the famous words.

Finally.
“I love you too, dad.”

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spaceship

late autumn

cold enough to
turn a breath visible

he leaned against the
rail of the bridge
and watched the
river run
below him
and imagined he was in a
spaceship
hovering above the land

Smiling
he said, "Yes, I'll be there one
day, brother. I'll pick you
up with the spaceship we wanted
to build together. I'll
put it together and then–"

and just then a pair of
hands grabbed him
from behind and pulled him apart from
the rail. "All right now," said
the nurse, "let's not get
carried away again."

He startled. "I wasn't going
to jump this time. I swear."

"I believe you," said the nurse. "But
let's just leave now. Let's get
back. I'm cold and
I'm sure you're hungry too and
we could get a cup of
hot chocolate. How about it?"

"I wasn't going
to jump," he said.

She held his hand. "I know. I know, dear.
Come now. Let's get back."

"I wasn't going
to jump."

She dragged him away from the
rail and held his
hand all the way back
to what she called the friendly house.

Ol’ Bloody Brush

the old man stank
but he
stank more
of booze and cheap
tobacco than
filth

his mouth missed
a lot of
teeth
and his eyes
would never
look
in the same
direction at once

but worst of
all were his hands
Now those were
really messed up

He claimed he had
paint tanks
under his nails
and he wasn’t lying

he was mad
but not a liar

He could paint
wherever he was
on any surface

And he did

pressing the stump
of his fingers
against walls and
furniture
triggered immediate
bleeding

and then he
would trace on and
draw something
Usually a penis or
some hairy cunt or
some silhouettes
fucking or
something like that

Then he’d step back
admire his creation
and laugh
and suck at his
bloody fingers

Ol’ Bloody Brush
was a celebrity
around the
block
He never had
to buy a
drink for
himself
There was always
someone to treat him,
an admirer
a fan, a disciple

Yeah, at 66
Ol’ Bloody Brush
was living the life
unlike other wannabe
artists who devoted
their existence to
the craft and got
nowhere

These guys,
they had the talent
and the drive

bout Ol’ Bloody Brush,
he had the madness

and the world
was coming to learn
the difference

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