You Made Me Take Drugs by Bogdan Dragos

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MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

A red colored picture of a blonde-haired woman holding a knife in her one hand
Image Source: Snappa

“You made me take drugs,” she reproached

him

But he didn’t hear her

over the pain in his lower belly

“You made me take drugs,” she repeated.

“Huh?”

“And for this I’ve decided to

replace you. With someone better, someone who

would never make me do something

I don’t feel right with.”

He shook his head and noticed

that he was in the kitchen

tied to a chair

And there was a horrible pain in his lower belly

and his chest and

most of his body

and he felt like vomiting

His woman was at the gas stove

pouring oil over a frying sausage

in a pan

The dog was at her feet

salivating

“This is what you get,” she said, “for making

me do drugs, darling.”

“What?” He was still with a foot

in the world of painful dreams

but he watched her take

the sausage…

View original post 131 more words

this is not one of them

the old boy
wakes up three hours ahead of
the world that lives in concrete buildings
and one hour ahead of the
competition
and emerges from his damp tent

looks around the park
looks at the sky

Overcast

He stretches a bit and scratches his
head
and walks over to the fountain
and has a drink

collects some mint leaves
chews on them
spits
and rinses his mouth

The work clothes are already on him
Boots
two pairs of socks
cotton and wool
faded jeans
a shirt
a sweater
and coat over them
mittens
and a cap that covers his ears as well

It's now time to set about
collecting tin cans around the neighborhood
to make just enough for
a meal and a half
and maybe a few cigarettes sold
individually

It's been
enough years for all this to become
routine
When you don't know of any better you
don't expect any better

And now he only did this to have just enough
energy and life force to
visit the public library and
read heart warming poems

Cyst by Bogdan Dragos

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Gobblers / Masticadores // Editores: Manuela Timofte / j re crivello

you ever just sit or lay on your bed and stare at the ceiling and wonder if you’ve ever eaten meat from an animal that was the offspring of another animal you’ve eaten? I’ve once read an article about the food industry’s secret glue that can paste together the meat belonging from many animals and makes it look like it’s from a single one thus you could eat beef thinking that it’s from a cow when in fact it’s from nine different cows of nine different ages and breeds a friend of mine declared herself vegan after she sliced a steak and found gray slimy puss oozing from it. The blade struck a cyst “I’m a vegan forever from now on!” she screamed And I said, “I’m a writer.” “What?” she said. “What’s that have to do with what I said?” “I’m a writer,” I repeated. “Meaning I have to…

View original post 178 more words

The Building was still Unfinished by Bogdan Dragos

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MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

A troubled and sad woman standing in front a rundown building face
Image Source: Snappa

They will never finish the building

It would stay in its skeletal form

forever

because the government is

corrupt

but then

they all are

so it wasn’t the grandest

tragedy of the world

It was a fun place for

the kids

A place where they pretended to be

monkeys and did parkour

and whatnot

A place where tight friendships

and love were to

be discovered

and kept hidden in the various

incomplete rooms

and under unfinished stairs

The unfinished building was the

wonderland of a truly magical childhood

And it was still unfinished by

the time childhood ended

It’s been twenty years

and her girlfriends kept asking

her why she wasn’t

dating or starting a family

She just shrugged. Said she didn’t

want to hurt any men

It was enough those twenty years

ago when she

told a boy that he had to

walk across the high…

View original post 102 more words

you cannot kill a poet by Bogdan Dragos

Gobblers / Masticadores // Editores: Manuela Timofte / j re crivello

young people, they think nobody has the same thoughts as them they take great pride in some made up originality as if really nobody ever thought up scenarios of themselves descending some rope from some helicopter and dropping in the middle of enemy forces and starting to shoot around, all movie like ‘an shit and killing all the bad guys while not taking one bullet One man army or there’s those other thoughts of being simply the greatest at some sport and being admired and envied for it also, the thoughts of sex in all its forms the thoughts of mindless violence of saving the day of being somewhere else and doing something else all kinds of thoughts and all the minds who think them label them as original but they’re not original they’re every young person’s thoughts and me, I also have thoughts I consider original I think of…

View original post 178 more words

lab rat by Bodgan Dragos

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Gobblers / Masticadores // Editores: Manuela Timofte / j re crivello

so, you're writing poetry or, well, at least you pretend to and you pretend you're good at it and the people want more from you nice but how come none of what you write is uplifting stuff? if anything, you've got more depressing shit than uplifting stuff and you expect to get popular with that? get real! you've got to inspire people you've got to write motivational stuff, uplifting, hope giving stuff, upbeat verses brimming with intelligence and radiating brilliance your words are like confetti on a page why are they so scattered? what poem is this? why does it start with a lowercase letter? are you dumb? Don't you know how to write? you're unbelievable, man, unbelievable and don't even mention the nonexistence of rhymes, pfff, lame... this is not a goddamn poem, fool it's child's mockery and you should grow up and stop pretending you're doing this for…

View original post 235 more words

Savages by Bogdan Dragos

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MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

A sad, small boy has covered his face with his hands
Image Source: Snappa

Wasn’t the best house for

a five-year-old

It was just a small room above the

bar his mother worked in

and it was open until late at night

and he couldn’t sleep because

of the noise

He imagined savages going

at each other, fighting to the death,

and then laughing in celebration

of victory

and he wasn’t too far from the truth

His mother would come

into the room from time to time

to get something or

to leave something in her locker

She had no time for him

And lately she kept coming with

blood on her clothes

He imagined she must clean up after

all those savages, pick

their dead bodies up

and bury them

It was unfair. Her only reward was

a spit’s worth of flour

that she was too tired to cook

with. So

she just snorted it through her nose

and went…

View original post 112 more words

Before the Leap by Bogdan Dragos

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MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

Man standing at the edge of a steep cliff and looking down as if ready to jump
Image Source: Snappa

so this is it then

He stood by the margin of the ravine

looked down

took a deep breath

looked behind him

no shadowy figure reaching

out

no pale silhouette making stop motions

no apparition telling him to

not jump

Of course,

what the hell was he thinking? These

things don’t happen outside

of stories

Stories like the one he was reviewing

on his phone

while driving

with his pregnant wife in the passenger

seat

the crash happened at

the moment he tapped send

and just yesterday he got a response

from the editor

saying it was a great story and they will

definitely publish it

There was no “Thank you” reply from him

just an “I’m sorry” and “I love you” on

his wife’s social media

before taking the leap

-BOGDAN DRAGOS

Bogdan Dragos supervises casinos for a gambling company, working twelve-hour shifts locked in a…

View original post 42 more words

alive today by Bodgan Dragos

Gobblers / Masticadores // Editores: Manuela Timofte / j re crivello

there was a new guy in the park
among the homeless

He arrived just after the mayor had
eradicated all
the tents and improvised huts

and it was easy to spot him
He was the one who
always had a book in his hand, always
reading

"Check out the new guy," they
said. "An intellectual. Heh, hey buddy,
what you reading that for? Not like
you gonna get a degree that'll take
your ass outta here anytime soon. Haaahahah!"

He was reading his own poems
from a time when
he was young and his dreams were
still alive

Today nothing was alive
but misery itself

View original post

hunger is the secret ingredient

like a baby left for
hours
and hours in a hot car
he
woke up
with a sweaty forehead
and a buzz
in his temples

no room to stretch

he got out
of the
car

in his underwear

shook his legs
and hands
rubbed the pain away from
his knees
and back of the neck

There was a bottle of water
he got from
the park fountain
among the litter in the back seat

he opened it

hot

took a sip and swirled it
around his mouth
spat
took another sip
swirled
spat

that’s for dental hygiene

He put on pants and a shirt
locked the car
and walked 50 paces
to the nearest public restroom
where he removed his shirt and
washed his hairy armpits

He studied the violet circles under
his eyes in the mirror
checked his teeth
his tongue
felt for wax in his ears

put on a professional smile

went to the public
library
and the desk by the window was free
His smile grew brighter
as he sat down
and opened the notebook

Chapter 86 would
be next in the manuscript

He looked out the
window
This writer life was precisely as
romantic as he thought it’ll be

no more
no less

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