4779 digital pages filled
with ramblings
about feelings
thousands of
grammar and
spelling mistakes
a broken heart
consuming itself
a final 'goodbye' that came
out of a lover’s mouth long ago
still echoing in the ears
a stadium-load of cockroaches
and rats partying
in the house
a mailbox chocking
on unpaid bills
her room a mass grave
of empty bottles
snowed with ash
no income
electricity about to
be cut off
and she’s still
writing
at least the clouds are
smiling back
they have faces and
souls
and they stare back from their
blue canvas,
down on his dirty, snot-smeared face
It’s a warm
sunny day
but the
bottom of the shallow, dry well
is cold and full
of critters
Well, no problem. The sky is so
pretty with all its smiling
faces that he
won’t even cry. He’ll stay there
and look up. Still waiting
for mother to return and
pick him up
Still waiting
Smiling back at the clouds
Still waiting
Pink
pink would be the right choice
because the doctor said it will be a girl
He would paint the room pink and await
her coming into the world
What a blessing
How fortunate he felt
His back and sides were tingling with
happiness
He came out of the store and a
homeless woman came his way
and he was quick to say
“Sorry, no spare change right now. I spent
all I had on paint.”
“That’s all right,” said the woman. “I don’t want
your money. Actually, I was hoping you
could give me some
of your paint.”
“My paint?”
“Yeah.” She held a tin can to him
“Um, all right,” he said and opened the
can of paint and poured some into the woman’s
can. “But what do you need paint for?”
She watched him
Put the tin can to her lips
and drank the paint
“Plan Z,” she said
He wanted to say something in protest
but couldn’t even gasp
when he noticed her swollen belly
He walked away and got into the car
and drove home
and just wasn’t as eager to paint that room
anymore
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 […]
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 […]
Daydreaming as a profession 