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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Exiști în majoritatea timpului

>‿‿◕ English translation HERE!

MasticadoresRumanía Editora: Manuela Timofte

de Bogdan Dragoș

tu nu exiști când
ochii-mi sunt deschiși,
nu exiști când 
sângele nu-mi e otrăvit,
când sufletul mi-e împăciuit,
când stomacul mi-e plin
și când am companie

deci exiști în majoritatea
timpului,
dragă muză

Imagine de Steve Bidmead de la Pixabay 

Volume publicate:

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A Place with More Meaning by Bogdan Dragos

Don't forget to check out and follow MasticadoresIndia to find more writings to enjoy! Thanks!
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MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

An abstract image with a cup of coffee in the center and the fires of hell on the left side and the cross of Christ on the right side
Image Source: Canva

“One day

I drank 29 cups of

coffee,” she said

“Yeah,” he said, “I’ve

no doubt.

“It was my attempt at

suicide,” she said

“Yeah. I’ve no

doubt.”

“There’s free coffee at

work,

so I took advantage. My

boyfriend died

that way, you know? He

was a truck

driver

so he used coffee and

energy drinks to

help him drive at night.

I don’t know how many

he had that night,

but his heart

exploded.

And I thought, you know,

if I die in the

same way, perhaps I will

be taken to the same

place as him.

It just didn’t work for

me.

I know you think this

is, like, so naive,

but when you’re drowning in

grief like I was… even

the afterlife

starts to make sense.

That’s when you

believe most in fantasy. I

even believed in

God, like all the people who

reach…

View original post 161 more words

So they asked ‘what does your ideal girl look like?’ by Bogdan Dragos

Gobblers & Masticadores

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

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smiling back at the clouds

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 paint

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


the veins By Bogdan Dragos

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 […]

the veins By Bogdan Dragos

The Boy Who Ate Flowers by Bogdan Dragos

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 […]

The Boy Who Ate Flowers by Bogdan Dragos

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