Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "soul stabbing wounds"!
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Thank you!
soul stabbing wounds
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
like ants crawling up to a dead thing by Bogdan Dragos
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the days follow each other like ants towards a dead thing and after enough of them pass by, you finally realize you are that dead thing And that's supposed to be alright. After all, no one is excused from this All we can do is make the journey pleasant However, when the alarm wakes you up at 6:30 in the morning, announcing that there's yet another day in which you'll have to attend your duties of slaving away for others to get rich, when you're slipping into the other half of your life not bringing along any fulfilled dreams despite trying again and again... Another day in which you'll be assaulted by questions like, "Hey, so when are you going to get married?" "Have you even someone to marry?" "Why don't you get another job. Aren't you a bit too old for this one?" "How much do they pay you?"…
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party
the music makes my lungs quake there are people all around jumping up and down shouting singing howling into each other's ears the lights blaze from above and the sides and even from the floor the immense room feels like the surface of a star and its inhabitants dance and cheer in the flames Everyone is happy everyone's ecstatic jubilant wild high frenzied having the time of their life And I am amidst them all They are talking to me Expecting replies The party goes on and on and on God... I've never felt lonelier in my life.
A Bouquet of Blood Roses by Bogdan Dragos
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even the full moon
felt like a
spotlight above him
It made him
sweat in
the cold night
as he
wandered the streets
Nothing too out of
the ordinary
about him. Just an
average guy
wearing average clothes
and carrying a
rather thick strand of hair
in his breast pocket
crimson red
and long as a
forearm
He would hold on
to it for
the rest of his life,
no doubt about it
Surely it was a thing that
he could take
along even
if he would be dragged into
prison,
which was definitely not
out of the
question at this time
His tired pacing
directed
him away from the main
streets
and towards the back
alleys
where he stopped
before a dumpster and
knelt
and held the crimson
strand of hair in his palms
like a crushed flower,
watering it with
his tears
as he began…
View original post 379 more words
how do I get to this guy? by Bogdan Dragos
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and again we sit around the table and this guy goes at it once more babbles nonstop about how life is meaningless and how nothing we ever do will have any meaning in the end Ultimately, he says, there is no reason to strive for anything. There is no reason to live You might be thinking that you can become immortal by leaving something behind such as a grand work of art, but you're simply wrong If the whole world ceases to be, if, say, the sun swallows the Earth in but a few years then who will be here to admire your work? It was all pointless, wasn't it? Being and staying alive bears no meaning. Nature is ultimately indifferent to you and your satisfaction in life We are nothing. Forget about dust. We aren't even dust but something infinitely less dust has no meaning and neither have we…
View original post 109 more words
The Law of Luck by Bogdan Dragos
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the last bar brawl
left him without
a chunk of his
upper lip
and a nose busted
beyond recognition
now his whole face
was swollen
like he was
wearing a
cheap rubber mask
his opponent
used brass knuckles
it seemed. Getting shot
probably wouldn’t have
hurt as much
but luckily he
kept his
teeth
Actually the teeth were fake
from another
brawl
but at least they didn’t
come off
It was a weird sort
of luck
And the law of luck was
what he believed in
and he theorized about
it whenever he
got drunk
or high on his prescription
medicine
“A balance has to
be maintained,” he said. “This
thing is sacred. An’ I’ll
fight everybody
who says it ain’t so!”
Likely a lot
of people
said it ain’t so
“There’s a sacred balance
in the universe.
You cannot have a streak
of bad luck
without…
View original post 385 more words
many other lies to uncover by Bogdan Dragos
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she kicks the dust with her tennis shoes that were cut off to look like sandals squats and picks up the earwig shows it to him tilts her head to the side and brushing her hair back she puts the earwig into her earlobe like in a bowl The insect doesn't get inside the ear canal. It quickly crawls out and struggles to run away back towards the ground "See?" she demands as she stands and places her hands on hips. "It doesn't go into the ear. It's a lie! It's been a lie all along. And you believed it like the idiot you are. Don't you wanna slap yourself now? You've been living a lie. They've controlled you like a dog." He watched her. Said nothing Suddenly she twisted her face in a grimace and in a gruff voice said, "If you keep making ugly faces you'll remain stuck…
View original post 139 more words
cave of forgotten gods
all right, that sounded like good advice Put your room in order first and then your thoughts Sure He started looking around the room for things that were to be thrown and things that were misplaced There were a few There was a broken snowboard on his bed It had the image of a naked girl painted along he slept with it at night and would often find himself placing his lips over hers and licking at her slim, long neck She had to go It was time to get rid of her and break out of this ridiculous lifestyle He grabbed it Looked at the girl for a good minute and decided to place the snowboard under his bed He knelt by the side of the bed and looked under Alas, she had no room in there There was the forgotten cave of dead gods he no longer thought about And it was full There were body pillows with brown stains Hardened socks Doll heads A teddy bear with a hole carved between the legs A drinking glass stuffed with dishwashing sponges wrapped in plastic bags Magazines with crumpled pages Pictures printed on A4 paper Sealed jars that contained small figurines covered by a thick, brown substance like melted wax Those were the gods of nights long past They had their share of his worshiping and had been abandoned to rot away There was simply no more room for the present god to be disposed of “Funny,” he said looking at her from above. “It's like all the ones who came before you had passed down their blessings onto you. I… I am sorry I tried to get rid of you, love. I’m such a fool! Don’t strike me down, please. I’ll… I can only try to make up for it.” He placed the snowboard back on the bed and ripped two pieces from a paper towel and placed them over the middle of the snowboard where the painted girl’s nakedness was exposed He pulled his pants down and mounted her Rubbed his penis against the paper towels and showered the girl’s face with kisses while apologizing and shedding tears for wronging her so much By the time he came he felt forgiven and cleaned the stains that made it past the papers with his mouth
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
Daydreaming as a profession 