e-revista EgoPHobia - ISSN 1584-6210
(St. Valentine’s Penumbra) by Oliviu Crâznic Back in her holy chamber of secrets, lust and sin, She plays for me the Maiden, the Goddess and the Queen; Mélange of scarlet flowers, she blossoms in my arms And offering me pleasure, she’s gambling with her chance.
by Bob Carlton I Institutional tile. Fluorescent lighting. Distant sounds of doors opening and closing. Click of locks. No echo of footsteps. II A woman steps out of a room and into the hallway. She is wearing sunglasses. I find this odd, though no more so than the fact that she immediately enters […]
Salty My lips taste of salt and of the dreams it took to make you
by Oliviu Crâznic Like every Sunday evening, I exercise my talents, The girls are all around me, the ace is in my sleeve; Well, I was born to win, as scheming is my nature – And on this Sunday evening, I’m up to something big.
State as Ass Summing up of the thoughts: God of Atheism
by Ana Bazac If I would dedicate this note to the upcoming Christmas, it would be simple bumkum: “holidays are always the occasion to show our compassion for the unfortunate, our goodwill, our charity, au fond our love for humans, are they?” And tear-exciting palaver about poor children and mothers finding their happiness (goods necessary for […]
by Ana Bazac Between the everyday external goods man needs not only as a living being depending on the permanent exchange of matter and energy, but just in order to fulfill its specific function – the exercise of reason – according to Aristotle, there is one matter-of-course and which is so integrated in our routine […]
next to a burrow on this wooded bluff beside the Mississippi singing hymns of well-being for that which lives within perhaps even a goddess yes, the goddess of some small creatures
by Ștefan Bolea I live inside an iron maiden I’m just a rat beneath my mask squirming in the basement slimy and vile wear the crown until I remove my eyes with mirror pieces until an army of devils surrounds and captures me until hell burns down and becomes inhabitable until the apple swallows […]
by Oliviu Crâznic Coming with the resurrection, Casting spells won`t hide the sins; I`m still seeing, in my nightmare, How you’ve cut your bleeding wings.