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rainy season damage
It’s been a rough rainy season
and rain always
put father in
the drinking mood
He drank more in this
rainy season than
ever before in his life
Mother’s missing teeth
and broken shoulder
were proof of that
Surprisingly
the old story about falling
down the stairs held up
with the doctors
Well, just like he messed
his wife up
the rainy season messed up
the roof of the house
He downed what was left of a bottle
of vodka and got the
ladder and a few tools
and went out
His son held the ladder for him
He always cursed
plenty when he worked on
something. He was cursing his
wife as he hammered at the
roof and said something
about his son not
being his
and the second best thing
about his fall
was that the son didn’t even have
to shake the ladder, as planned
Father just fell on his own
thanks to the vodka he
drank before climbing up there
The first best thing about
father’s fall was
that he landed on some
screwdriver in his pocket
and got stabbed in the kidney
The pain must’ve been
something to follow him
all the way to the afterlife
as he bled to death
and cried silently
The kid watched him,
watched his watering eyes,
and kicked dust in his face
and went back inside the house
They waited until it was too
late and then
called the emergency number
one unlucky boxer
He was a boxer
Picked up the craft at six
and never put it
down
Unfortunately though
being a good boxer doesn’t
earn you a good job
in today’s society. Best he
could do was bouncer
at a local bar
His IQ wasn’t much help either
He beat up quite a number of
troublemakers
and earned a reputation
became a local celebrity
The women desired him
and got him
and life was good until the one
invincible opponent stepped
into the ring
Well, there are many invincible
opponents in a man’s life
but his was prostate cancer
All the women who wanted to
take pictures with him
and have his autograph on their
chests and wanted to take
him home meant nothing now
One of them was a rich
older lady who
gifted him a car after he served
her a few times in the bedroom
He used it to
drive at full speed into
a pole
And as it happens after someone
dies, the people had only
good words to say
about him
They thought he didn’t leave
much behind
but one of the girls he’d been
with knew better
She rubbed her swollen
belly as she
thought of him. It’ll be fine
as long as her husband wouldn’t
suspect anything
in a very open marriage
She parked in his driveway
and got out of the car
and went to the door
and knocked
A woman opened up
“Oh, hi. You must be my
husband’s date.”
“Um…what?”
“Oh, it’s okay. We’re in a very
open marriage, really.
It’s fine. Come in.”
She tried to remember
a time when she felt more
embarrassed and out
of place. Failed. Gave up.
Came in.
The woman closed the door
behind her
Locked it
Took out the gun
Fired
It was worth it
The husband was dead in the
bathtub. Shot in the head
And his wife used his phone to
text this other woman
and ask her to come
over
The wife got a very, very light
sentence
and no one disagreed with
her actions
She was the hero all local housewives
wanted to be like,
an inspiration, a celebrity,
someone they looked up to
guilt is one heavy anvil
they were having another one
of those heated
arguments on the porch
when the kid ventured
into the
street and got run over by a car
He didn’t survive
And there was no
getting out from under this guilt
“He tried to run away from
our screams.”
“Yes. He did.”
“And we can only…go after
him now.”
“Yes. We’re going after him.”
She circled her arms around
his neck and pulled him
in for a kiss
while holding the revolver
against his nape, thumbs on the trigger
It was the sweetest kiss
of their entire
marriage
The bang ended the problems
for both of them
the world is full of fetishists
the sex was good
She loved to swallow. Even
from the condom. Had
a real fetish with it
They passed out eventually
in each other’s
arms
and somewhere towards
the morning he
woke up with a blade in the
gut
It twisted hard
He gasped for air
and watched her eyes, demanding
an explanation
Her response was a shrug. “Just
wanted to see what it
feels like. I think I
love it.”
He didn’t survive
and she faced no real consequences
The world is full of fetishists
some girls like to
swallow cum and carve their
partners up for fun
and some men
like to hook up with
psych ward patients
There never was a time in history
when madness was not
romanticized
and idolized
and alluring as sin
honestly, I had to look online for the meaning of the term
She pushed gently against me
and fell on the
bed
Stretched a leg towards me
began unbuttoning at her
jeans
I helped her take them
off
Not too gentle, not too rough
Grinning, she turned around
in bed and said, “I just
remembered, you never told me
what your muse looks like.”
“Huh?”
“And please don’t tell me
it looks like me. We both know
that’s bullshit sweet talk poets use
to get girls. Don’t
lie to me, boy. What does your
muse look like? You
can tell me.”
I reached for her foot
moved it out of the way
not too gently, not too rough
Reached for the panties
She pushed my hand away
not too gently, not too rough
“Tell me. Is it, by any chance, a little
girl locked inside a basement like
it was for my ex-boyfriend? Do you
whip her when she’s naughty
and doesn’t give you inspiration? Do
you deny her food and the
bathroom?”
“What?”
“Tell me, poet! Do you? Do you
lie on your back when you masturbate
and imagine the muse
squat above your face
and shower you with her piss
as blessing?”
I took a step back. “What?”
“Oh fuck,” she said. “Just tell
me already what your muse
looks like and how d’you get
intimate with her. Tell me!”
“I, I don’t know. I don’t work
like that.”
She stopped touching herself
Watched me expecting
to add more
I gave a shrug.
Honestly, the last time I thought of
a muse it was
some broke, homeless young guy,
scrawny as a putrid
plank and roaming the streets
He had nothing in this
world
but hunger
A hunger that possessed him
and made him write like a madman
That guy was my muse
But I figured
she wouldn’t care to hear about that
Anyway, we didn’t go out for long
after that evening
She said we’re not compatible
because I’m too vanilla
broken toy
it was dark and
hot
and every breath entered
with salty sweat
inside the nose
the mouth was
gagged and the whole head
covered by a
black trash bag
with two very small holes,
unaligned with her
nostrils
Her skin was itchy all
over
but there was no scratching
with hands and feet
bound to the chair
She didn’t realize that she
was in hyperventilation
and it was making things
worse
After the four hours
it took him to come back to
the basement
he found the greatest
disappointment of his life
He found her dead
There’s no feeling like
paying good money
for a toy
only to bring it home
and find that it’s broken
before you get to
play with it
He broke down and cried
for a whole hour
as he sat on her dead lap
and caressed her hair
and kissed her gagged
mouth and sucked the
snot from her nose
She was beautiful
too
Weeks later he was unable to
forget her
He carried her eyeball inside
his mouth wherever he
went
scratch on the inside
she ran to the desk
opened the drawer
shuffled around
got the scotch tape
and a condom
Ran towards him and
fell to her knees
She hurried to put
the condom on,
laughing like a child
knowingly doing something
bad, yet exciting
Then she wrapped the whole thing
in scotch tape
giving it plenty of
sharp ridges and pointy
spots
When it was done she spat on
it a few times
and gave it a few
licks
It was the best way to get
fucked while
dealing with a yeast infection
The scratching sensation
on the inside
is simply divine, she
said
dark corners of the dating scene
well, she was cute in
the pictures
and in person
but she kinda broke the
spell when
she sat down at the table
and opened her
mouth
She just had to follow
every damn sentence
with a
cringe-worthy “meow” or “nya”
and she would
even rub her hand against
her face cat-like
“What’s up with that shit?” he
would’ve liked
to ask, but
kept to himself and stayed
a gentleman all throughout
the date
She only spoke about
animated shows
she watched and conventions she’d
participate to, always dressed
as some fantasy character
She showed him some
pictures on her phone and he
decided to make this
first date
the last
but then she said,
“Also, when I get fucked I
make those sounds, hehe.”
“What?” he said. “What sounds?”
“Oh, you know what I’m
talking about.” And then she proceeded
to reproduce the sounds
Right there
in the goddamn restaurant
Sounded like some child getting
beat up real good
and repeatedly stabbed all over and
in tremendous pain
The other customers and
the staff
looked over and he could see
hands reaching for
phones, ready to record the
shit
Well, to their credit, it
was some shit worth
recording
You don’t see and hear that
every day
Anyways, at the end of
the day he decided that it
just wasn’t the worst date
he’d been on
nor the worst sex
he had
Anything was better than
that time he
got stabbed by a
self-diagnosed psycho girl
only empty wine bottles
He just wasn’t a bright kid,
mother told the
doctors
“Got his finger stuck in
the bottle
and he panicked and smashed
the bottle against his head.”
Right.
Well, it was true that
there were no
other toys for him
around the house. There were
only empty wine
bottles
ever since
daddy left
better than any show on TV
It was a strange day
He still remembered it years
after it happened
Usually when he got
drunk
It didn’t take much for him
to get drunk
Sometimes two beers
were more than enough
He was perhaps
five or six
and big sister was in her early
teens
She was a rebel
Wore thick makeup
and revealing clothes
and fake piercings
and argued with mom and dad
about tattoos
and boyfriends
But on that day mom and dad
weren’t home
and there wasn’t much to do
in those times. There was
nothing interesting on TV
and the internet wasn’t a thing
But big sister had an idea
That morning they found the cat
dead in the basement. It was
old enough to die. Big sister
went there and retrieved it
and brought it upstairs
and placed it on the window sill
and they watched as birds
came to eat the maggots from
its rotting flesh
Big sister seemed to really
enjoy the show
and he didn’t want to upset her
so he pretended he
enjoyed too
These days
the drunker he’d get, the more
vivid the memory
would play in his head
He had three beers
now
sometimes you don’t have to lead the insane to happiness, but to follow
he would start whistling
Very random
and very loud
even at night in bed
and stopping him was
very much a
gamble
The caterpillar-like
stitches on
his wife’s arm were a testimony
to that
He’s never been the same
since his head injury
Poor fellow just had the terrible,
terrible luck to
walk underneath an overpass while
some teenagers were throwing
big rocks for fun
Now he kept calling the emergency
number and crying that
his wife had
gone missing when she’d be just
in the other room or at work
The neighbors filed
noise complaints
because of
his nightly whistling
and apparently he no longer knew
how to use the
toilet paper. He always smelled
and it was worse when
he climbed in bed
besides his wife
It was hell
and hell broke people
and tonight again he started whistling
and woke her up
and as a response
she started whistling as well
They whistled together
in the dark
under the covers
and held hands and smiled
after so long
it’s okay, his father’s a writer
so the assignment was to write about
what the perfect
vacation would look like
and he wrote about
running away from home and
stealing a car
and running people over
robbing a gas station
assaulting and beating
a lady in the restrooms
shooting the cops
smashing their heads in
and at the end driving the car
into a wall and
dying with a shitload of money
and a lady’s head in
the trunk
“Your kid seems very…
troubled,” said the
teacher
“Oh my God!” said the mother. “No,
it’s his father…”
“Hm? His father treats him…
inappropriately you mean?”
“Well, you see…no actually.
His father doesn’t spend
much time with him. He is
a writer…”
“Oh. I see.”
Bogdan Dragos works as a dispatcher for a Romanian gambling company (supervising casinos) and that implies spending twelve hours alone in the office (where he daydreams and writes poetry that he emails to himself). He is the author of Pour the Whiskey Over My Heart and Set it On Fire.