Într-o căsnicie deschisă

(⌐■_■)–︻╦╤─  Read the English version HERE

MasticadoresRumanía Editora: Manuela Timofte

de Bogdan Dragoș

parcă mașina în dreptul căii lui de acces, se dădu jos, merse către ușă și bătu. O femeie îi deschise. – Oh, bună, tu trebuie să fi prietena soțului meu. – Aa... ce? – Oh, dar e-n regulă, dragă. Noi suntem așa într-o căsnicie din asta, deschisă. E-n regulă, hai, intră. Încercă atunci să-și amintească vreo altă ipostază în care s-a mai simțit la fel de rușinată și nelalocul ei și nu găsi nimic, renunță, și intră. Femeia închise ușa în urma ei, o încuie, scoase arma și trase. A meritat. Soțul zăcea și el mort în cadă. Împușcat în cap. Iar nevastă-sa i-a folosit telefonul pentru a-i scrie mesaje amantei, chemând-o la ei acasă. Nevasta primi o sentință foarte, foarte scurtă și nimeni n-a contrazis-o în acțiunile sale. A devenit eroina gospodinelor locale, idolul lor, a adevărată inspirație, o celebritate, cineva la care se uitau cu…

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▶️ BASA: POUR WHISKEY OVER MY HEART AND SET IT ON FIRE | Bogdan Dragos

BUTUNG IS LAYP | Coconut is Life

afternoon coffee with Bogdan
2022 | © tea solon
Mandaue City
Philippines

Taking a short break from doing translation work and now devouring Bogdan‘s 2020 poetry collection PourWhiskey Over My Heart And Set It On Firewhich carries with it the signature images that scandalizes, tears, and undo me every time. I love how Bogdan’s poetry disturbs the psyche and annihilates moral boundaries that sometimes Boccaccio’s The Decameron comes to mind and marries every heinous psychological thriller film there is. Great afternoon read!

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Pressure by Bogdan Dragos

Don't forget to check out and follow MasticadoresIndia to find more writings to enjoy! Thanks! 
♡✧( ु•⌄• )

MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

The close up black and white image of a woman wearing a superhero eye mask and smoking a cigarette
Image Source: Canva Pro

she slept with a small,

thin Batman plushie

between her

breasts

and often woke up

with it

soaked in sweat

The poor Batman looked

diseased,

crushed,

and suicidal.

Clearly he was facing a

villain he could

not hope to defeat

It was the dreams

that made her

sweat so

There was much pressure

in her dreams

The last one

was about her lower jaw

pressing against the upper

one

until the teeth came out

of their socket, all of them,

and she swirled them

around her mouth

like tic-tacs

and eventually swallowed them

one by one

until she choked

In another dream

she pressed

her thumbs against her

temples

until they went in with

a crunchy sound followed

by complete silence

and pain

but the worst dreams

were those in

which she applied pressure

to others

and not to herself

There was a lot of

pressure

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Bogdan Dragos

Horror Sleaze Trash

the father and I are one

She got very deep
into spirituality
at her mother’s
sound advice

A lot of people,
including her mother,
got into spirituality
as a means to calm
the feeling of having
no control over life
whatsoever

But behold,
there are those who
go through spirituality
and come out knowing
that it none of it’s true
Suddenly they know
and understand we have
one hundred percent control
over our own destinies

Today she was one
of those people

“It’s all a matter of
how we manage our
thoughts,” she said
“How we organize
our minds. You attract
what you focus on
most of the time.
It’s that simple.”

The guys at the bar all
nodded, each hoping
to get some private
lessons out of her

And one of them did

He took her to his place
where he found out that
she was on her period

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Doar un trotuar

(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞ Read the English version of this poem HERE

MasticadoresRumanía Editora: Manuela Timofte

de Bogdan Dragoș

Sunt un trotuar

unul pe care ale tale picioare
s-au târât grele și 
umede și obosite

și mă-ntreb încotro te
duci
și de unde vii

Mă uit într-una în sus
sătul de tălpi și picioare
chiloți și monede pierdute
și gunoaie aruncate 

și indiferență

Prea mulți oameni, prea puțini câini
și doar câteva pisici și șobolani
în noapte

Dar tu ești diferită. Tu nu porți
pantofi și piciorușele tale
sunt reci și delicate 
și-n urma ta 
mă pictezi cu o dâră de sânge 

N-ai chef de complimente, știu. Dar
am s-o spun oricum. Ești frumoasă

Și sper... sper că 
oricine te urmărește 
n-o să te 
prindă niciodată

Îmi doresc să pot face
ceva, să pot ajuta

dar eu sunt un trotuar
sub tine
și pot doar privi

Imagine de toocheesh de la Pixabay

https://bogdandragos.com/

Volume publicate:

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our very own patron saint By Bogdan Dragos

ヽ(•‿•)ノ Visit Gobblers/Masticadores and find more writings you can enjoy!

Gobblers & Masticadores

he was a doctor

Goddammit, they were looking at
a doctor
He came into the casino in a suit,
the same suit every day and night
dark gray
shiny with grease around the
elbows and lower back
smelly
patched up in places

he kinda forgot what it was like to be
sober

and lately he kinda forgot what
it was like to win at the slot machines

he forgot how to perform surgery
how to diagnose a patient

forgot what the company of a woman felt like

forgot what love was

he was a machine that consumed cheap
but strong alcohol
Rubbing alcohol filtered through bread
That stuff was 70% alcohol
his liver knew it

"Ah, pleaseeee, for the love of God, don't
make me work with this
stuff again," he would scream while
playing at the slot machine

and the bouncer would walk up to him
and say, "Hey…

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sometimes you don’t have to lead the insane to happiness, but to follow

Gobblers & Masticadores

By Bogdan Dragos

he would start whistling Very random and very loud even at night in bed and stopping him was very much a gamble The caterpillar-like stitches on his wife’s arm were a testimony to that He’s never been the same since his head injury Poor fellow just had the terrible, terrible luck to walk underneath an overpass while some teenagers were throwing big rocks for fun Now he kept calling the emergency number and crying that his wife had gone missing when she’d be just in the other room or at work The neighbors filed noise complaints because of his nightly whistling and apparently he no longer knew how to use the toilet paper. He always smelled and it was worse when he climbed in bed besides his wife It was hell and hell broke people and tonight again he started whistling and woke her up and as…

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Pour the Whiskey Over My Heart and Set It On Fire by Bogdan Dragos

Gnome Appreciation Society

What Da Cover Says: Horror Sleaze Trash proudly presents the poems of Bogdan Dragos.

What I Says: I have followed Dragos on WordPress for many years now and he has entertained me all that time with some bloody good poems, you are guaranteed to get something dark and fucked-up that will give ya a chuckle….unless it’s just me giggling.

Horror Sleaze Trash presents this mighty fine collection from Dragos, it contains some of his most twisted material, I love how again and again he is able to surprise me with how the poem ends. In my opinion the tone of a poetry collection is always set by the first one, it has to be strong and it needs to get some kind of rise from you or you ain’t gonna enjoy what’s next, Dragos starts us off with “some things can never be put back together” a brilliant start, messed…

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A Cracked Shell by Bogdan Dragos

Don't forget to check out and follow MasticadoresIndia to find more writings to enjoy! Thanks! 
ヾ(o✪‿✪o)シ 

MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

A slug sitting on a small rock
Image Source: Snappa

“Lack of love,” she once told him, “can turn

a man into a cracked shell. Turn

his steps into rotten

butterfly wings falling. Turn his

breath into ether. His heart into a sick slug

struggling to escape a haunted bog.”

Sure, sure

but then again his parents told him

long ago when he was a child

that if he kept making ugly faces

he’ll remain like that forever

Well, now his parents weren’t here

and she wasn’t here

He was all alone

with his cat who gently licked at its genitals

besides him on the other pillow

Other than the cat’s saliva

breaking apart in contact with its fur

and skin

there was no sound in the room

it was all so peaceful

There was a gentle drizzle outside

just enough to keep people

and noisy children off the streets

It was perfect

Had she been here

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Bleed ’em to death by Bogdan Dragos

╰( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )つ──☆*:・゚ Visit Gobblers/Masticadores and find more writings you can enjoy!

Gobblers & Masticadores

"Eh, sorry, sorry," she would
say
but the wound would be already
open

She would close her eyes
squint them
poke her tongue out
and shake her head
"Sorry."

She liked to bite
couldn't help it

"You're gonna kill somebody
one day. Bleed 'em to death or
something."

"Sorry, sorry."

but some people
some girls
are just impossible to stay mad at

Despite her words
there was
no remorse for opening the wound
no remorse for licking it
making it bigger with her tongue
And no remorse for sucking
the blood out of it

She never swallowed
Just swirled it around her mouth,
loving the saltiness
and the taste of metal,
and then let it drip down her chin

She was arguably
one of the
greatest
among the great ones

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