Un boxer ghinionist

(ง •̀_•́)ง ผ(•̀_•́ผ) English version HERE!

MasticadoresRumanía Editora: Manuela Timofte

de Bogdan Dragoș

era boxer a apucat îndeletnicirea cam pe la opt ani și n-a mai lăsat-o din mâini. Din nefericire însă, a fi un bun boxer nu-ți garantează și o slujbă bună în societatea de azi. Tot ce-a reușit a fost să se angajeze ca agent de pază într-un un club de noapte local. IQ-ul său nu prea i-a venit în ajutor. Bătu un număr destul de mare de agitatori pe acolo și asta i-a câștigat o reputație a devenit o vedetă locală femeile-l doreau și l-au avut și viața a fost bună până când oponentul invincibil a pășit în ring. Ei bine, sunt mulți oponenți invincibili în viața unui bărbat, însă al lui a fost cancerul la prostată. Toate femeile care voiau să facă poze cu el și îi cereau autograful pe sâni și voiau să-l ia cu ele acasă nu mai însemnau nimic acum. Una dintre ele…

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A Bouquet of Blood Roses by Bogdan Dragos

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MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

The abstract image of a young woman in red with a red rose superimposed over her
Image Source: Canva

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

Daunele sezonului ploios

English version HERE ヽ(•‿•)ノ  

MasticadoresRumanía Editora: Manuela Timofte

de Bogdan Dragoș

a fost un sezon ploios destul de nemilos și ploaia-l punea mereu pe tată în dispoziția de a bea A băut mai mult în sezonul ăsta decât oricând iar dinții lipsă ai mamei și umărul său rupt au fost dovada perfectă În mod surprinzător vechea poveste cu căzutul pe scări a ținut în fața medicilor Ei bine, în tocmai cum el își nenoroci nevasta și sezonul ăsta ploios a nenorocit acoperișul casei Goli ce a mai rămas din sticla de votcă și luă scara și câteva unelte după care ieși din casă Fiul său îi ținu scara Întotdeauna înjura temeinic când lucra la ceva. Acum își înjură nevasta în timp ce lucra la acoperiș și mai zise și ceva despre fiul său, cum că n-ar fi al lui. și așa, al doilea cel mai bun lucru despre căderea lui a fost faptul că fiul nici măcar n-a…

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Bad Blood by Bogdan Dragos

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(ゝ◡・)ノ♡ 

MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

The close up of a woman's lower face with bloody lips and blood dripping down her chin and her bloody fingers upon her chin
Image Source: Canva

Nine PM caught them sitting on

the broken bench by

the river banks

She removes her jacket and

stretches her

hands. “See?” she says, “I told you I’m

bad blood.”

He stares at her,

mute and dumb and

utterly incapable to find himself

in her dark eyes “Huh?”

“The mosquitoes,” she says. “They

don’t want to

suck my blood. See? Not one of

‘em lands on me.” Lightly, she hammers a

fist against her chest. “This blood

is poisoned, I tell you. I’ve been

drinking since

my age was in the single digits. Helped

myself to mother’s stash

countless times. Now you can’t tell

my chest apart from a boy’s and, if I

remember right, I was about sixteen

by the time I had

my first period. Pretty sure I

can’t have children either. Though

I never really tested this.”

He hesitates. “But… your face is like

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Trash Collector by Bogdan Dragos

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ლ(▀̿̿Ĺ̯̿̿▀̿ლ ) 

MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

A man collecting garbage from the street and picking it up to put in a huge sack behind him
Image Source: Canva

I don’t know what was

more impressive

about him

the fact that he

collected trash

in a bag that was

at least three

times bigger than himself

and carried that bag

on his back

or the fact that

it was winter

and he was only

in shorts

and wasn’t cold

That one evening when

he approached me

in the store’s parking lot

he asked if I’d

seen any cans

I reached into my

shopping bag

and gave him one.

A can of beer

He shook his head

at it. “Nah, man, I can’t

take it like this.”

“What d’ you mean?”

I asked

He pointed at

it. “This ain’t trash,

man. It’s a perfectly

fine can

of beer. I only

take trash.”

Something told me that

the time

and the place was not

for arguing or

demanding explanations

You don’t just

ask a man like him to

View original post 177 more words

The Way to Worship the Devil by Bogdan Dragos

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̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿'̿'\̵͇̿̿\з= ( ▀ ͜͞ʖ▀) =ε/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿  

MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

A red faced evil looking devil with red horns on its head
Image Source: Canva

the black metal was

blasting

in the speakers

but the

painted faces on

her wallpapers

no longer grinned

at her

and no longer whispered

too bad,

the drugs wore off

Well, the best part about

living with grandpa

was that she could

simply get out in the

middle of the night

dressed however she wanted

and return in the morning

with whatever she could get

The old man

wasn’t like the

stereotypes she read about

on the internet

He spent all his days

and nights

in his

bedroom,

hunched over a small desk

sitting in a

creaky chair

that meowed every time he

turned a page

in the notebook he

was writing

‘He probably does more

drugs than

I do,’ she thought.

A few days ago

she went into the

bathroom

and found a bunch of

burnt logs and twigs

in the bathtub

Being high

an’ all…

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Pentru că oricât de fragilă ar fi luminița, tot se vede în cel mai negru întuneric

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ English version HERE!

MasticadoresRumanía Editora: Manuela Timofte

de Bogdan Dragoș

și-n această dimineață
i-a sărit în pat
și a mieunat și i s-a aruncat pe față
și i-a lins fruntea.

Acum avea și el un motiv
să se trezească. Ca să hrănească
pisica.

Și avea chiar și un motiv
să facă duș.
Fiindcă pisicii nu-i plăcea să lingă
o față unsuroasă.

Mai avea și un motiv
să-și caute de lucru. Fiindcă mâncarea
de pisici nu-i gratis.

Și mai avea și un motiv
să se întoarcă acasă. Pentru că 
pisica-i ducea dorul.

Avea un motiv pentru a trăi.
Era un motiv micuț pentru a trai,
dar tot era mai mare 
decât toate motivele de a muri.

Imagine de Brion Claus de la Pixabay 

https://bogdandragos.com/

Volume publicate:

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Face Behind Bars by Bogdan Dragos

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◉‿◉  

MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

The close up of a woman's face where only her orange eyes are showing and her black hair is falling on her face while she covers her remaining face with the palms of her hands
Image Source: Canva

her hair made her face

look like

it was always

behind bars

or trapped

in barbed wire

Nothing could get

through those

thin bars

but the mouth

of the bottle

as it joined hers

strands of

hair would get

inside her mouth

and between her lips

and into the bottle

and she

wouldn’t care one bit

“If I were a bird,” she

said. “I’d never

sing. I’d just

fly and fly

and fly around the world.

Around and

around until

I’d get hungry

and thirsty

and I wouldn’t eat

or drink. No,

I’d keep on

flying and flying until

I’d drop dead into

some ocean

somewhere. That would

be a life worth

living.

Ah, but I’m not a

bird.

The being that I am

can only imagine what

it’s like to be one

while drinking

herself into the

ultimate fantasy. Here

I go.”

The mouth of

the…

View original post 79 more words

the ultimate thief by Bogdan Dragos

ʕづ•ᴥ•ʔづ♡ Visit Gobblers/Masticadores and find more writings you can enjoy!

Gobblers & Masticadores

sparks blazing in her eyes, she watched him from across the fire sitting silently on her small log, bracing herself shivering a little “You see,” he said, “this fire gives off more sparks than flames.” She nodded And he went on, “It's because it uses souls as fuel. I'm burning things that once used to be part of people, things imbued with their essence. A favorite scarf gifted by a loved one before departing, a wife's beloved ring, a child's doll that resembles their mother, a purse that is seen as magical by a rich merchant who thinks she got rich by holding money in it, an army general's lucky loincloth. These objects have in them parts of the souls of people who used to own them. Other thieves think they're stealing things of value, but they don't know what true value means. Me, I'm no ordinary thief, as you…

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Words are for foolish humans by Bogdan Dragos

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Gobblers & Masticadores

“I wish I could write my feelings on the wings of a blue butterfly,” she said. “And then follow it around the room with a burning candle or a lighter until I burn it to a crumpling crisp. I would write about you on those wings, of course. I would go to sleep dressed in funeral attire, hiding your solar plexus between my legs, your skull between my breasts, my tongue circling around and around over and over again inside your orbits. I would decorate your skeletal mouth with rose petals and stick thorns between your teeth. And how many vertebrae do you think I can swallow without choking? D’you think that with training, in time, I could deep throat your whole spine?” His lips parted for a reply but she quickly sealed them back with a finger dipped in her body juices “Shh, don’t answer me with words, darling…

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