dreams of drunk men

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 […]

The knife listens by Bogdan Dragos

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.”

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“the veins” Short Story by Bogdan Dragos

The Chamber Magazine

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…

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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

The Chamber Magazine

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…

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Bogdan Dragos

Horror Sleaze Trash

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

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Bogdan Dragos

Horror Sleaze Trash

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

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Pour the Whiskey Over My Heart and Set It On Fire

Horror Sleaze Trash

BD front cover

Horror Sleaze Trash proudly presents the poems of Bogdan Dragos.

BUY A COPY HERE

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Bogdan Dragos

Horror Sleaze Trash

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

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