these days a lot of
people call
themselves
empaths
They claim to be able
to feel what
other people
are feeling
and suffer with them
"I cheated on my boyfriend
with his brother," some
girl said,
“and being the empath
that I am
I started crying along
with him when he
found out. It's hard
being such
an empath."
And there was
the guy
who got into a bar
brawl and
knocked another guy's
teeth out
and held a hand to his
own mouth and made
pain noises
I guess he
was an empath too
If you have a
social media account
and don't describe yourself
as an empath
people will think you're some
kind of monster,
a psychopath, they'll compare
you with Hitler
Yeah, it's a good
reason not
to use social media
If you actually
needed another
the woman with the dirty eyes, they called her as she always beheld people like they were but dust in her eyes Her face would make that expression of pure disgust one feels while passing a homeless drunk in the streets. Fallen and stained with piss and feces and blood People weren't worthy to be held in her eyes but the people were everywhere she looked So she looked less into the world and more into her papers where she drew the few things she saw Every human being was drawn with hair covering their eyes and every animal with human eyes, clean eyes she'd been drawing all her life and now more than ever before She had a new dog now. One so meek and so obedient that it allowed her to stretch open its eyes and lick them with her tongue "There is much inspiration to be tasted…
the bartender was displeased with him and the patrons didn't like him much either He was the sickly, slender man who came at opening time and sat at the table by the window, watching the people outside he sat there until closing time problem was, he occupied that seat for so many hours in a row with only one drink usually a cognac sometimes he would mix all sorts of pills in it and wait for them to dissolve some did others didn't Regardless, he sipped at his drink and watched the people outside and spoke to nobody and seemed never to be bothered by noise, like he was deaf and the days passed and the weeks went by and he'd show up without fail When they did talk about him they called him The Watcher and speculated about his mental illness However, when I went to the bar myself…
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.
father wasn’t very happy
when he came home
in the night
his little girl,
playing video games
and enjoying snacks
and having an occasional sip from
mother’s wine and cider on
the couch in the living room
at 01:27 AM,
could tell
Father was very sad
even though he came home
with
money and a car full of stuff
He shied away from
mother’s kiss and hug
“What the fuck’s with you?”
mother asked,
seeing him like that. “You got
caught or somethin’?”
Father looked down
at his shoes. “I’d rather get caught...”
“What?” said mother
“I said… Ah, forget it. I can’t
do this shit anymore. This
is no way
to live life!” He reached into all
the pockets of his pants
and coat and fished out money,
very crumpled bills, and threw them
to the floor. “Look at this.
Look at it and think. In six days
it’s Christmas! And the children from the
foster home I’ve burglarized
are all going to find out they’ve been
on Santa’s naughty list.
Holy shit, I feel like… shit right now…”
“Huh? Is that it? Guilt?
Really? You feel
guilty now? What’s this, a sign
of getting old?”
“If not
then it should be,” he said. “The
two of us grew up in
a foster home just like that
one, didn’t we?”
“Yeah,” she said, “and we hated
every second of it. So what? We
didn’t get presents
for Christmas. We were
lucky if we got more food and
an extra hour of TV, dammit. Kids today
are too privileged. Fuck ‘em
an’ let’s count this cash.” She
went on her knees
and started collecting
the crumpled bills.
He stepped
away from her. “I need
a break from this.”
“Bullshit,” she said. “What you
need, darling, is to first
of all stop being
a pussy, you’re embarrassing yourself
in front of your daughter, and
second you need a
strong drink and a good fuck. I can
take care of the last two, but
the first one is
up to you alone, okay? Oh, by the way,
did you also steal a new
tablet? I broke another one
today.”
“And a phone charger
for me,” said
their daughter from the couch.
“I didn’t break it. Just can’t
find it anywhere.”
He sighed
and took off his shoes
and went into the bathroom to
take a shower,
unable to get those poor children
off his mind. He hated
himself
“Shit,” he said.
From the living room
his wife and
daughter started blasting really
loud music with
over the top, obnoxious
and dirty lyrics
“This is my life now,” he
whispered against
the water that flowed down from
the top of his head. I was better off
in the foster home. Sometimes it’s
better to be hurt by
others and struggle to stay alive
than to
know the only way you can
stay alive is by hurting others.
It’s times
like these that make me
think about
what that nun said to me
in the foster home when I learned
to write. You’ve a knack for it,
she said. I see a great
future for you as
a writer. Believe in yourself
and keep at it.
Shit… if I kept at it… I’d probably
write a story about a
sad burglar now
instead of living it…
I saw him busy and focused beyond focus over a yellow legal pad that he held in his lap He squeezed the pen like struggling to strangle a snake and his tongue was poked and clasped tight in a corner of his small mouth for maximum concentration "Damn kid," I told him. "Now that's a flow state, if I ever seen one. What's your secret?" He made the briefest eye contact and said, "If I took the time to tell you, I'd lose it." That was the best answer I ever got. The kid was a genius. I was standing in the shadow of a giant right there in that cafe. I beheld a god But his mother wasn't very fond of me talking to her kid as I passed their table to go to the bathroom I tried to explain to her that I also write Kinda... Well that…
drinking
alone
at night
with the
moon
the world is finally
beautiful
he fills another glass
and toasts with
the window pane
"Here's to normalizing
being awake at
night and sleeping
during the day!
Cheers!"
the moon
smiles back
in agreement
Daydreaming as a profession 