to choose the bottle

there are many reasons a woman
can say her final
goodbye to you
 
and somehow they
all feel
different
 
He supposed the worst of all
had to be when
her final goodbye is
influenced by another man
 
made sense
 
but that wasn't his case
Also he was too drunk
to think
straight now. And in too much
pain
 
“It's the final goodbye,” she had
said. “You chose the bottle
over me, now live
with the bottle. Goodbye.”
 
Goddammit, this
really hurt
His dick was only getting harder
and more blue
stuck in the mouth
of the bottle
 
Yet still, through all the
pain and the
dizziness he reached for the
phone and called her.
He said, “Hey, I just want you
to know that… It was
you I had in mind when I did it.
I did it while thinking
of you, love.”
 
She hung up


a distracted dreamer

what else to do when
the rain falls so heavy
against the window
outside?
 
Get melancholic
get poetic
have a drink
have another
 
close and then lock the door
to your room
and don't listen to
the voices coming
from outside
They want to distract you
They don't want you
to be successful
and make it in
life
 
They're all haters
 
He covered his ears
and squinted his eyes at the
computer screen
doing his best to block out
the negativity that came
from beyond the door
 
“I can't get up!” the voice
croaked. “Come help me. I can't
get up.” And then with
a cry, “Please!”
 
“Shut the fuck up, grandma!
I'm trying to
write in here. Jesus Christ, I'm
trying to make
it big, don't you understand?
For fuck's sake now.”
 
He had also sent a manuscript
to a potential
publisher and was waiting for
a reply. It's been
two days already 


the female assassin

the ashtray was looking more
and more
like a sick hedgehog
  
and her yellowed fingers
added one more quill to it
  
she sat back in her chair
  
work wasn't in the best of stages lately and
her office looked like a junkie's
trailer. You could
scrape the nicotine
off the walls. In fact, she
would get nicotine under her nails if she
just scratched her skin
anywhere
  
But otherwise she was
a beauty
and that was a problem. Beautiful
women have the worst
luck in marriages
  
The husband left and the two girls went
with him
They were sick and tired of her
habit to consume more cigarette smoke than
oxygen
  
And drinking was also a problem
though not nearly
as big
  
The worst drinking has ever done to her
was to make her lose
the driving license which she never
bothered to take back
  
The real problem was,
as always,
a lack of money. If the damn phone didn't
ring soon
she would have to kill someone
for a pack of cigarettes
  
Assuming she could still
kill
someone with her body rotting from the
inside. She was fine with
breast cancer
but now lung cancer joined too
and it was by far nastier
  
Still
that was all right
It doesn't take a healthy body to pull
a trigger
  
And speaking of triggers
She opened a drawer in her desk
took out the gun
studied it
  
Not loaded
  
She browsed through the drawer
  
Only one bullet left. One single bullet.
These things cost money
too
  
Damn it
  
But it's like they said back in
the mercenary camp
The last bullet is always preserved to be
used on the self
  
She loaded the bullet into the
gun
  
A life lived well is one
lived without regrets and without
ever asking for mercy
or feeling sorry for yourself
  
At 39
she had that. There was nothing
else to be taken
away from it
  
She put the gun to her
temple
  
Smiled
  
"Except for a final smoke."


Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 02/01/21

(\____/)
( ͡ ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡ ͡°)
\╭☞ \╭☞Big thanks for the feature!

Cajun Mutt Press

a dead body in the room

there was a dead body in the room

Had to be

Else where did the smell
come from?

Every time he’d turn around to catch
a ghost or a zombie
from the corner of his eyes the smell
would slap him

A smell of death

He decided he’d look around for the
dead body
but later

He didn’t have the energy now
or the disposition
or anything

He only wanted to sleep
some more
He just woke up and needed a good
nap to recover

Perhaps there were times when it
didn’t make sense
but now, today, nothing made more
sense that this

All you need is a healthy
dose of chronic depression and it makes
sense

Just like not cleaning the room
and not taking a shower
in a time longer than memory can be
bothered to remember

So he paced back to…

View original post 814 more words

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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faded silhouette in the mirror

Gobblers / Masticadores

By Bogman Dragos

 the worst part about being alone and sick is being sick but perhaps the second worst is having no one to comfort you   He reminded himself aloud that it was his own choice and rolled on the carpet and pushed his thumbs inside his eyes   The head was killing him, like the brain grew legs and constantly kneed his eyeballs from the inside, seeking to push them out like caps of beer bottles and exit through the holes   And his stomach wasn't any better although it got everything out some time ago   The first few coughs came with liquid, pungent vomit but now there was only blood   "You can only get what you deserve," whispered the faded silhouette from the mirror. "You might think all this is caused by the bottle of wine you found while dumpster diving as you do. It…

View original post 141 more words

Saint Bernards are big, heavy dogs

he opened another beer 
and sat on
the couch
but turned off the TV

He watched the kid

The kid was on his knees
before the coffee table
busy with
an orange pencil and a
piece of paper 

Tongue poked
to one side and held
firmly between
the lips,
he was writing letters to
the pet dog
he’ll never see
again

And he did that
all day long

Dad sipped at his beer. The
years of action
were far beyond him now
but by all the gods
he swore
tonight will be the
night
he sneaks into his ex-wife’s
home and kidnaps
the dog

He even rented
a van
for it

feeling the train

A pretty thick 
slice 
of hell 

That was life 
so far 

But today things 
will change 

Today he was six 
years 
old and that meant old 
enough to 
guide his blind father 
on the streets 

The old man was only 
blind for 
a year after some work 
related accident involving acid 

And there was a mother 
somewhere too. She left 
shortly after 
father’s accident 

Today father held on 
to his son’s shirt 
at the shoulder and told him 
to walk towards the 
railway 

“I want to listen to 
the train,” said father 

but it turned out he 
wanted much 
more than that. He wanted to 
feel the train. Against 
his face 

So he stood on the rails 
and told the kid 
to go back home 
and return after an hour or so 

“Okay,” said the kid. But 
he didn’t leave. He watched 
from a safe distance 

Didn’t even find 
the 
event particularly disturbing 

Then he went back home 
and had some 
fruit loops with milk 
and his first taste of 
beer 

He had become a 
man 

cat shaking the paw

She could say it if
she wanted
to but
the words would
carry no
weight behind them

like a cat shaking
the paw with
you
and not understanding
the real meaning
behind
the gesture

so was her
every
“I love you.”

Enough to make an
old boy cry
but he
preferred suicide

Needless to say
her response
was
“Meh.”

“Mother forbade feeding the poor thing” Short Story by Bogdan Dragos

The Chamber Magazine

dog

There was a dog outside and it kept barking for some reason. Ah yes, it was chained and the chain was terribly short and the poor animal was hungry.

Mother wouldn’t bother feeding it. No, mother wanted it to die because it had been father’s dog, inherited along with the house after father died. Mother forbade feeding the poor thing.

Her child stood next to the window and listened to the poor thing barking outside. It was better than listening to mother drinking and talking ugly words with her boyfriends.

He opened the window and the dog saw him immediately and barked at him. He wanted to cry. Tried talking to the creature but it wouldn’t listen. It kept barking.

“Mother would cut my hand off if she caught me stealing food for you.”

But he was a smart kid. He leaned over the window and thrust two fingers down…

View original post 82 more words

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