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Bogdan Dragos Nov 2019
the old man stank
but he
stank more
of ***** and cheap
tobacco than
filth

his mouth missed
a lot of
teeth
and his eyes
would never
look
in the same
direction at once

but worst of
all were his hands
Now those were
really messed up

He claimed he had
paint tanks
under his nails
and he wasn’t lying

he was mad
but not a liar

He could paint
wherever he was
on any surface

And he did

pressing the stump
of his fingers
against walls and
furniture
triggered immediate
bleeding

and then he
would trace on and
draw something
Usually a ***** or
some hairy **** or
some silhouettes
******* or
something like that

Then he’d step back
admire his creation
and laugh
and **** at his
****** fingers

Ol’ ****** Brush
was a celebrity
around the
block
He never had
to buy a
drink for
himself
There was always
someone to treat him,
an admirer
a fan, a disciple

Yeah, at 66
Ol’ ****** Brush
was living the life
unlike other wannabe
artists who devoted
their existence to
the craft and got
nowhere

These guys,
they had the talent
and the drive

bout Ol’ ****** Brush,
he had the madness

and the world
was coming to learn
the difference
Bogdan Dragos Nov 2019
she kept texting me links
links
links
to posts on her
law of attraction blog

Find Your Soulmate In Six
Easy Steps

Meditations For Prosperity

Meditations For Prosperity
Enhanced Edition

14 Visualization Techniques That Will
Manifest The Perfect Life

How To Show Gratitude To The Universe
In Order To Get More Of What You Want

Find Your Dream Job Using This
3 Step Meditation Formula
Works 100%

Grab God’s Hand And Let It Pull
You Out Of Debt. Here’s How

How To Listen To The Correct
Inner Voice And Let It Guide You

How To Befriend And Make Love To
Your Higher Self. A Step By Step Guide

“Leave me a like. Comment too.
Thanks.”

“I need an account to do that,” I said.
“I don’t have an account.”

“Well, make one.”

“I need an e-mail address to make
an account.”

“Are you telling me you don’t have
an e-mail address?”

“I forgot the password.”

“Oh, why do you have to be like that?
You wouldn’t move a finger
to help anyone. Ever! How can you
live like that? You’re… uh, horrible!”

“Okay, listen. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll make
an e-mail address and give you the password
so you can make an account for me
and leave likes and comments on every
post. How about that?”

She didn’t answer.

And didn’t text me for a while

A few months later she sent me an
invitation to her wedding.

I didn’t go.

After she got married she stopped
posting on her blog
Her husband was ten years older than her
and they moved to the UK

A few months later a common friend mentioned
she was having a baby
and showed me pictures of it
on the various social media sites that
portrayed life at its absolute perfection

The account was full of pictures of
quotes from self-help books

‘It’s never too late to be what you
might have been.’

‘Dream positive or wake up!’

‘Shoot for the moon! Even if you miss
you’ll still land among the stars.’

‘When things aren’t going well in your life
scream to yourself STOP! and think
of all the ways things can go right from
then on.’

‘Remember that what you think
and feel now creates your future!’

‘Doing it badly is infinity times
better than not doing it.’

‘HOPE is the best medicine.’

‘Always ask yourself, what would the best
version of myself do?’

‘Actions first, feelings later. Act on your values.’

And on and on.

And a few months later she divorced and left
the UK
Her girlfriends said the husband was
abusive
The girls who weren’t so close to her
said that she cheated on him

the truth was probably somewhere
in the middle

Now she was living on child support
and returned to writing her
blog
Only this time the posts weren’t so much
about the law of attraction and more
about her life and what she’d been through
and what d’ you know,
they were actually good
they were worth reading.

It worked!

the law of attraction worked

Her blog was finally popular
it was getting likes
and comments and followers

I read the latest post titled
“When you’re going through hell, keep going”
and it was good
there was some real feeling behind
each paragraph
each word

She made it

and now I sit back and wait for the post
titled
“Nothing comes without a price”
or something like that.
Bogdan Dragos Nov 2019
She told me that women like
men with grizzled,
*******
faces, men with scars
men with eyepatches
men with very unkempt beards
Mouths that snarl
when it’s time to smile
Eyes that are like eggs buried in
a nest of wrinkles
Noses that are never straight
And the jaw,
oh the jaw has to be big
square
like a drawer
A man’s face must have a chin
that can take sledgehammers

that’s why the luckiest woman
in the world
was Belle
from The Beauty and The Beast.
That was a real man, The Beast.
although the story is a tragic one
because in the
end he turns
into a charming prince
with smooth face and polished
features.

“What a *******,” she said. “If only
he stayed a beast…”

Meanwhile I think about
myself
the most grizzly feature about
my face is the mad
eyestrain I developed
because of my job, after staring
at monitors in a dark room for
all those years and then coming home
to stare at another monitor.
it is now impossible for me to get
outside and keep my eyes
open like a normal person. I die if I
don’t strain them as hard as I
can. Sunglasses don’t even help.
and there’s also the dark
circles below my eyes
they’re not even purple as I’ve seen
in other people

“They have the texture of the
skin around the *******,” she said,
laughing.

She was right.

She was also right when she pointed
out that if you can’t grow
a beard by the time you’re
twenty you’ll never grow a proper
beard.

“****,” I said. “Guess I’ll never
be a beast.”

“It’s never too late to get your
face ****** up
though,” she said. “You
just need
to hang around
the right people.”

“Such as your dad?” I said.

“Oh, *******,” she said,
dragging the blanket
over her *******.
Bogdan Dragos Nov 2019
In the afterlife the creatures that
gathered around him
asked, “Why did you do it? Why
did you jump in
front of that train?”

He shrugged. “Life wasn’t
worth living anymore. And I wanted
revenge.”

“Revenge?”

“Yes, revenge.”

“On whom?”

“On the man driving the train, obviously.
My wife was divorcing
me, a lawyer, to be with a
locomotive engineer. Can you believe that?
So I had to do
something about it. I jumped in
front of his train
and now he’s got PTSD, depression,
he’s about to lose his job,
my wife has second thoughts
about being with him. His life’s nasty, alright.”

“Woah... you’re a smart man.”
Bogdan Dragos Nov 2019
mashed potatoes
poached eggs
beans
and some homemade garlic sauce
but no meat for the
princess's sensitive stomach

"I'm full," she said

"No, you are not," said mother. "Eat up. Finish
everything from your plate
and trust me, it's been calculated. It's
the right amount. Now eat up."

Father agreed. Being a step-father he
didn't have much of a say in this
matter or any other

It took the princess another twenty
minutes to finish the
food from her plate
and then stood
and went to the bathroom but
it wouldn't be that simple. Mother had to go in
with her

And she did
and both of them came out and
the princess went to her
room
and mother started cleaning the table
always just one step away from
bursting into tears
which gave her new husband some work
with emotional support and all

A princess doesn't steal
but this was a desperate princess
she locked the door to her room
and pulled out from under her
shirt the
roll of plastic bags
took one
opened it
sat on the bed leaning forward
elbows on knees
face before the bag

and she didn't even have to
put the fingers in her mouth
the ***** just came
every bit of mashed potatoes
and poached eggs and every pea
and the homemade garlic sauce

She tied the bag
it felt very warm in her hands
placed it under her bed
got her phone and sent a text

in twenty-something minutes
he was under her window
and she threw him the bag of *****
and he walked away with it
carried it to a trash bin far from her home

He was such a sweet guy for
doing all this for her
He was her prince
Except he still kept his frog form
even after all the kisses and *******
after school

but well,
when you're desperate...
Bogdan Dragos Nov 2019
she doesn’t let me drink
and insists
that I listen to her

insists with
a viciousness

“It’s because you work night shifts,”
she says.

“What’s that got to do with drinking
while I’m free?”

“Alcohol lowers a man’s testosterone level
and increases estrogen. Why
don’t you know that? You
need to take better care of
yourself.”

she made for me a diet with
rice and garlic

calls me while on the night shift
and tells me to go into the bathroom
and jump 100 times
and do stretching exercises,
tells me to drink more water
She even buys me bags of nuts and seeds
and tells me to eat between the meals

“No sugar,” she says. “No, not even in
coffee. Pure black or nothing.”

she even bought me a
hand grip strengthener with adjustable resistance
to use while I’m in the office

she encouraged me to eat
raw eggs but stopped when
I told her that you can get salmonella like that

when I came home from work
one evening at 23:36
I ate my rice with garlic
and she asked if I wanted anything else
and I said “Yeah, a beer.”

“Okay,” she said. Went into the kitchen
came back fifteen minutes later with
a cup of tea and a lemon

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Ginger tea. It’s better with lemon. Should
I squeeze it for you?”

“No thanks, I’ll do it myself.” I cut the
lemon in half and squeezed it into the cup

It was the nectar of gods
and I didn’t
hesitate to tell her
so

“All right then,” she said. “Drink it all, rinse
with water before brushing your teeth
and then come to bed.”

I did all that and went to bed

and she wanted me to sleep
because lack
of sleep is the worst
enemy of a man’s testosterone levels
Bogdan Dragos Nov 2019
you ever just sit or lay
on your bed and stare at
the ceiling and wonder
if you’ve ever eaten meat from an animal
that was the offspring of another animal
you’ve eaten?

I’ve once read an article about the
food industry’s secret glue
that can paste together the meat
belonging from many animals and
makes it look like it’s from a single one

thus you could eat beef thinking
that it’s from a cow
when in fact it’s from nine different cows
of nine different ages and breeds

a friend of mine declared herself vegan
after she sliced a steak and found
gray slimy **** oozing from it.
The blade struck a cyst

“I’m a vegan forever from now on!”
she screamed

And I said, “I’m a writer.”

“What?” she said. “What’s that have
to do with what I said?”

“I’m a writer,” I repeated. “Meaning I have to
compare everything to writing. Your discovery
of the cyst inside the steak is akin to reading
a really nice book only to reach the most
disturbing scene you’ve stumbled upon in a long
while and be taken by surprise and change your
opinion about the whole book.
There are some books like that. Doesn’t mean
they all are though.
And unlike a meat eater, I like to believe
a writer can tell the difference between a book
written by a single person and a collaborative
project.”

“Boy, you’re scaring me.”

“Can I have that steak?” I said.

“Wah? You… don’t mean to eat it, do you?”

“Nah, my cousin has a dog who surely
won’t mind the cyst.”

she gave me the steak
and she didn’t ask (I only wanted her to),
but the writer
equivalent of this situation would be
to recognize when a story fails
real bad and instead of stubbornly striving
to submit to agents
you just give it away for free,
publish online,
maybe even under a pseudonym

Anyway
the dog loved that steak.
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