◉‿◉ Ultra GLAD and grateful to be part of Issue 5 of the illustrious Suburban Witchcraft Magazine!
“if you’re going to see devils, see them beautiful” – POEM featured in Suburban Witchcraft Magazine!
heavy cross, tight shackle
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
and suddenly the whispers that come from
the dark will become voices and
then screams
and they'll get him
A rabbit can die if it gets too
scared. I believe this is also
valid for my troubled brother. I'll only make
sure to leave a few sharp objects
near him
I know he'll do it
And I'm sorry that he'll do it
but there's no other way to break
this shackle
One day
I'll debate the issue with you, mother
But for now you can't argue with me
so I win by default
(▔▀ ‿ ▀ )ლ ▂▂⌇
Check out my new book filled with dark poetry -- REALITY CHECK
a king in his castle
at 08:22 he awakens and pushes
away the tarp he uses as blanket
he’s already dressed up
and wears shoes
looks around at the blackening
dampness of the walls
stretches a bit
takes off his coat and
the blouse
and the shirt
and the tank-top
grabs a tissue
wets it with rubbing alcohol
and uses it to wash his
armpits. He knows it’s good for killing
the bad smelling bacteria
He knows much about how the world works
for he’d been to school and even
one year of collage in his youth
When his armpits dry
he dresses up
and gets out and checks under the
big flower pots that stand before the
entry to the building
He is wise to keep his savings there
Otherwise the others would’ve
smelled it on him and would’ve
robbed him a long time ago
He counts the money
and feels satisfied with the sum
At 09:30 he eats a warm meal at the
local soup kitchen
and turns down
four bums who ask to borrow money
At 10:10 he walks up to the
big casino and
enters
Now his imagination kicks in
Behind the entry
he is greeted with luxury, he walks
on the red carpet
and sees the bright lights
and the game attendants who greet him
like a king
He is the king in his vision
and he had returned to his castle
He smiles
and walks around leisurely
A man needs to have but a clear
vision of a bright future
to live a happy present
He finds a seat
in front of a slot machine
puts the money into
the bill acceptor
and starts playing
He is one of the happiest
customers the casino
ever had
(▔▀ ‿ ▀ )ლ ▂▂⌇
Check out my new book filled with dark poetry -- REALITY CHECK
Vina-i o nicovală grea
English translation HERE!
(▔▀ ‿ ▀ )ლ ▂▂⌇
Check out my new book filled with dark poetry -- REALITY CHECK
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 the bed
and climbed in
and dragged the blanket, heavy with
caked dirt, on his body
and closed his eyes
He fell asleep in spite of
the smell of death
coming closer still
The dreams were always a little bit better
in the nap taken after
waking up from
the night’s sleep
One time he even dreamed he
was a published author. Not a great or
even a good one, but published
(▔▀ ‿ ▀ )ლ ▂▂⌇
Check out my new book filled with dark poetry -- REALITY CHECK
sub asediu
Check out the English version HERE!
(▔▀ ‿ ▀ )ლ ▂▂⌇
Check out my new book filled with dark poetry -- REALITY CHECK
faded silhouette in the mirror
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
had been opened and had no label
but you thought 'ah, what the hell, wine
doesn't expire. It's probably still good.'
Hah! It's not the wine, you cretin!
It's you. You alone are the cause of all trouble,
of all that's going sour in your life."
"Fuck you," he said
"Oh? That all you can say? You piece
of filth. I hope you don't recover from this
and finally do a service to the world
and stay dead."
But the words infused him
with the
needed adrenaline to keep living
On the next morning he
was feeling almost right
He dressed up and stood before the
mirror to laugh at the silhouette
but it was no longer there
"Ah, that's right," he said. "You died a
long time ago, mother. Thank you
for your service."
(▔▀ ‿ ▀ )ლ ▂▂⌇
Check out my new book filled with dark poetry -- REALITY CHECK
ouija board
Well, when you’re desperate
you’re…
“Me,” he said
He was alone in the room and lonely enough
to have bought one of those
Ouija boards from some old woman
who called herself a medium
It was time to try it
out
All he hoped for
was a
sexy ghost that would haunt him,
maybe hurt him a bit,
he wouldn’t mind
Anything just to
take away the soul-crushing
loneliness
Anything!
He said the prayers exactly as the
medium instructed and
did the breathing exercises
and was ready to
use the board
he moved the piece
to spell HELLO
got no answer
Looked around the room
Nothing
Again, he spelled HELLO. IS ANYONE
HERE? ANYONE AT ALL?
ARE YOU FEMALE?
Nothing
Nothing new at least. Only more loneliness
and more frustration
and
lower down the rabbit hole of
misfits he slipped
WELL
FUCK YOU!
he spelled
and jammed the pointy side of the
piece into his eye
and rammed his face into the board
driving it further into his skull
After his body was
found
the media concluded that the Ouija board
must’ve been really
cursed
and the poor boy had summoned a ghost
or some demon
or something like that
and it killed him
Well,
they weren’t too far from the truth
And the saddest part of
all was that
the story was
powerful enough to make other lads
like him
try out Ouija boards just like
him
He was now a legend
among those
circles
(▔▀ ‿ ▀ )ლ ▂▂⌇
Check out my new book filled with dark poetry -- REALITY CHECK
Daydreaming as a profession 