Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
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Well, after you write enough and try to publish for long enough you just notice it There is no such thing as good or bad poetry. There's just poetry to which people can relate and poetry to which people can't relate. And that makes all the difference in the world.
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it's hard to get bored these days there's all these gadgets and technology and stuff and there's the ghosts of the past to keep one company and, if smart enough, one can learn to combine them He lied on his bed and finally turned on his phone The notifications were there and they assaulted him. The missed calls and the text messages YOU PIECE OF SHIT! ROT IN HELL GO DROWN IN SHIT, YOU ASSHOLE! CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR ACTIONS DOING A NUMBER ON YOU! EVERY. SINGLE. LIE. YOU TOLD THERE'S A SPECIAL PLACE IN HELL FOR FUCKERS WHO MAKE SOMEONE FALL IN LOVE WITH THEM AND THEN TURN AWAY. YOU'RE GOING THERE!!!!!!! HEY, I'VE THROWN YOUR PICTURE IN THE FIREPLACE. I'LL SEND YOU THE VID OF IT BURNING SOOOO NICELY. JUST TO KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT SOON. OH, HOW SOOOOON... He turned the phone off…
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She doesn’t want to see people on the weekend only her cat She gets drunk by herself and then rummages through her books and reads the last pages of …
there is only love by Bogdan Dragos
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he sat on his knees
before the
bed
by the window
and tapped swiftly
on the screen
of the cheap tablet he’d
bought second hand
It had only a few apps
and the one
he used was
the notes app
It’s hell having to tap
on a screen
to write
but the alternative was
scratching words with
a pen on
paper
and those couldn’t be sent
anywhere these days
He had to get with
the times
At night he kept dreaming
of a device that
would turn one’s thoughts
into written words.
The future will
bring that for sure, but
for now he couldn’t even
afford
a small laptop
It’s hell having the
words in
you, ready to blaze out,
and not being able to
offer them the means
Oh, he
was frustrated, alright
And behind him a
woman’s voice
kept asking ‘when’
“When what?”
he snapped…
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>‿‿◕ English translation HERE!
(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞ English version HERE!
( ＾◡＾)っ English version here!
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“Are you trying to
kill me?” his mother screamed. “Are
you trying to fucking
kill me!?”
He backed away. “Mom, please.”
“Shut up! You brought
a cat. A cat! Of all things. In the house!
Knowing full well
of my allergies. That is a declaration,
young man. A declaration
that speaks
very loud. You are trying
to kill your own mother, you
insane monster!”
An hour later he
was in his room
caressing the cat’s head
and back
while it lay on his chest
and purred
“Can you believe her?” he
said to the cat
“Hardly,” said the cat. “She was
a monster though. You made
the right choice, baby.”
“When I decided to
keep you?” he asked
“Yes,” said the cat. “And when
you stabbed her in
the chest. You’re such a good boy.
That’s why I love you. And
after I help you calm
down…
View original post 93 more words
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but what are we alive for
if not to play
and enjoy
games
life itself is
but a game
and the best at it are
those who don’t
grow up, those who can
still view it
as such
She tried to teach her
four children
this truth
that’s why she brought them
into the backyard
where all the small trash bags,
so well wrapped in tape,
were laid on the grass,
and told them,
“It’s like that Easter game
where you find
the eggs. Only this time it’s
with small trash bags,
and you’ll be hiding
them.” She clapped
her hands a few times. “So let’s
go then. Mommy will
play along this time.
Let’s hide
the bags.”
It was the police
who came to
search for them later
“Can we build a dad
with all
these parts?” asked
one of the kids
after the policemen
won…
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(っ◕‿◕)っ English version HERE
Daydreaming as a profession 