Eye Nails by Bogdan Dragos

dreaming of being tied to some boulder with chains then the face gets covered by a heavy mask and iron nails get hammered through the thing’s eyeholes and into the bearer’s eyes they’ve got hooks at the other ends to make sure the mask doesn’t slide off It holds together so well it’s perfect when…

Two Disowned Souls by Bogdan Dragos

those were some seriously tired eyes Some people are just born with them It’s not a matter of getting enough sleep The tiredness is in the soul itself He looked forty though he was twenty-two and as she told her friends (with the family she didn’t talk) she found him in a bar, passed out…

Three years’ worth of love by Britta Benson

three years’ worth of love… the complicity of grace, the memory of habits, the sleeping trace of time, the ferocity of first, last, again, never love, a word, a corpse, a temper, a knife in her throat -BRITTA BENSON Britta Benson is a happiness & poetry blogging, circus skills instructing & common butterfly following German,…

It’s just normal in dreams by Bogdan Dragos

“Yeah,” she said, “my father was not the friendliest drunk in the neighborhood and he’s definitely not missed now that he no longer troubles anyone. But you know, I did learn something from him, alright.” Listening to her words, he poured another glass for himself and then one for her. “What could you learn from…

What you get from fucking with a writer by Bogdan Dragos

She was one pretty woman, alright, but her hands and fingers and palms were horribly messed up “It’s from drinking,” they said, and she didn’t deny It was from drinking She would drink distilled drinks only and preach about the evils of brewed drinks while doing it Then, somewhere along the way she would remember…

And the blind guitarist will play on by Bogdan Dragos

for hours and hours he lies down but doesn’t sleep “Can’t sleep when your eyes aren’t tired,” he says but his eyes are beyond tiredness. They’re dead. Been fished out quite expertly a long time ago by a very unfortunate, very unhappy mother who couldn’t stand looking into them “Bitch should’ve gouged her own then,”…

Curing Writer’s Block by Bogdan Dragos

as always when he found himself afflicted with a bad case of writer’s block he’d cure it by taking all the money in the house and going to the casino He’d always play the roulette and always bet on the number 17 If he won his money would multiply by 36 and if he lost…

The Earlier you Start by Bogdan Dragos

“The earlier you start in life, the better you’ll get,” she said. “That is, of course, if you keep going. If you don’t give up on your dream.” “Wise words,” I said She smirked at that. “You bet. So in your case, you say you started writing at twenty. That means you can’t be that…

Hold on to Hope, Everybody by Bogdan Dragos

she was the girl who told everybody to hold on to hope while she hid in her bedroom at night and cut herself She’d pass the razor blade by the side of her ankles and then crouch so as to lick and slurp the blood swirl it around her mouth until it lost its salty,…

Solely to Release Anger by Bogdan Dragos

lots of negative weather forecasts lately but the park was still full He folded the newspaper and looked to the next bench where some old man was begging his caretakers to take him home He cried that his hemorrhoids were killing him Far into the distance children were screaming the kind of screams that make…

In Memory of Sarah King by Tony Ashenden

Had you known your granite headstone                                         would be flanked by two unknowns                                               you might have thought it significant;                                           as yours stands tall like one chosen                                                compared to their drunken faces. The tree that shadows where you lay                                                         its sloughed bark being last to view                                               the moonlights felicitations;                                                           In…

Wolf Head Hands by Bogdan Dragos

Thick socks that my grandma made for me from wool I see them lying on the rug at the foot of the bed and they look like the heads of wolves in waiting waiting in the snow behind bushes dry with frost I grab them and slide them down my fists like gloves I have…

Lost Talent by Bogdan Dragos

sitting alone on the orange living room sofa at 02:21 in the night thinking trying to feel something other than hatred and rage In older times, with a younger self, a book might have helped Not anymore The book she was holding now was one for children A coloring book and the pencils were scattered…

The most fun activity in which you don’t smile by Bogdan Dragos

she’s got this big lizard that I don’t even know the name of and walks it around in a baby stroller “It needs the sun,” she says. “And it needs me as her mother.” When she’s not at her dish-washing job at the two-star restaurant she’s scouting the local park, looking for trees with bird…

Murder House by Dawn Pisturino

This house was her prison, And when she died, She thought she would be free. But her soul became trapped Between the bitter walls, — This house of misery And pain And drunkenness And decay. This house was her prison, And when she died, She thought she would be free. She was trapped between the…