the dreams of drunks are the strangest and often most beautiful It’s what he came to think this morning after he woke up with the empty glass under the blanket Surely it was that glass and the liquor in his guts that made him dream of a frozen woman, clear as glass She smiled at him with diamond teeth and stooped like only a professional stripper could next to his limp body She rolled him onto his belly and his limpid, numb eyes watched her grow an icicle from between her legs but they closed by the time she carved a hole into his liver and began to fuck him until the ice melted That was a nice dream, he concluded And tonight he’d go to sleep with two glasses and a bottle under the blanket
The knife listens by Bogdan Dragos
but that handle was made for his hand hand – handle handle – hand the fingers would close around it to never let go It had to have flesh around it at all times But the blade… the blade was still naked. He couldn’t let the blade naked It wasn’t fair “So that’s why you […]
they are legend
the little girl was scared at first but now she was terrified and about to have a panic attack He kept her tight in his arms and covered her ears and told her to calm down and that everything will be all right It was 02:24 AM and the knocks in the door and all around the walls and windows still carried on And there were howls coming from outside and curses and a constant sound of nails scratching on wood “Daddy, I’m scared! I’m…” “I know, dear, I know. But you have to calm down. Remember to focus on your breathing like I told you. Deep, deep breaths, okay? Deep. In and out. I promise you, tomorrow everything’s gonna be fine. I swear.” “Is it zombies?” asked the little girl. “No, dear. It’s something else.” “What’s it called?” “An ex-girlfriend, dear.”
“the veins” Short Story by Bogdan Dragos

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 neck real nice,’ he thought as he watched the man. ‘What does he want from me? More questions?’
It was indeed more questions.
“So,” said the man in the white coat, “if you are ready to speak, I am ready to listen. I am here for you.”
“How come you’re still alive?” he asked the man.
And the man answered, “What do you mean?”
“Are you one of the few who adapted?”
“Adapted? That’s interesting. Please, explain. What do you understand through this adaptation you speak of?”
He shrugged. “I just… thought I’m the only one who adapted. To the new life.”
“I see. And what about your…
View original post 375 more words
a woman named Cactus
high school dropout out of a job out of options soon to be out of the rented studio apartment he went to the local bar and drank himself to the point he had to vomit to make room for more and next thing he knew he was dating a woman named Cactus Life can get pretty weird when you don’t live it consciously I knew the guy and heard he moved in with his lover and started a new life I really, really hope the headline “LOCAL ALCOHOLIC DEVELOPS SCHIZOPHRENIA, DISMEMBERS GIRLFRIEND PLANTS HER LIMBS IN FLOWERPOTS, STICKS NEEDLES IN THEM” is not about him
“A spider web full of butterflies. Shaking in the wind” Short Story by Bogdan Dragos

She stretched on the bed and reached with her long leg and placed her foot on his desk, before him, on the notebook he was writing in.
“Wow,” she said. “Your place is so small, like a box of matches. And so empty. So lonely. Why don’t you ever have anyone over? I never see or hear you talking to people. Why must you be like that?”
“I don’t like people,” he said.
“Why?”
“Don’t ask silly questions. For the same reason I don’t like hotdogs. I just don’t like them.”
“Do you like me?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Would you like me to leave?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know a lot of things, boy. I came to you because… I wanted to have a place from which I’d be missed if I left. I thought the heart of someone as lonely as you would be…
View original post 218 more words
Bogdan Dragos
how can you be such a monster?
he spent four weeks
away from his family
in a rented apartment
somewhere on
the outskirts
of town
he told them that
he needed this
he was a writer
needed to focus on his work
conducting his research
undistracted
his little girl would call
from time to time
asking daddy to hold his
phone against his forehead
while she made a kissing sound
on the other line
very wholesome
except he lied about
holding the phone
against his forehead
“How can you be
such a monster?”
asked the naked prostitute
sitting on the edge of his bed
“Shut up,” he said
tossed his phone on the desk
and unbuckled
Bogdan Dragos
more than enough to explain
there was nothing
to explain here
the man’s wife told them
everything they
needed to know
Her husband wrote poetry
Yes, that would be enough
to explain why
he cut off his penis
and tried to use it
as a pen
before collapsing
on the desk,
blood pooling
at his feet below
Being a poet was
more than enough
explanation for
what he did
She didn’t need
to tell the paramedics
that her husband
had been looking
for inspiration
“He’s a poet,”
was more than
enough
They understood
Bogdan Dragos
bachelorette party
The driver:
He’s got the best chance
at survival in a car crash
That’s why he made it
and the other three didn’t
Having the seat belt on
also helped immensely
Knowing that the accident
would happen was also
a plus
Yep, the only minus of the situation
was having to pretend
he had PTSD and depression
and whatnot
for causing the deaths
of three close friends
who had talked his fiancé
into a gangbang
the night before