He Said He Wanted to Go. By Ryan Quinn Flanagan

It was total theatre.

None of us had been to New York, 

but this one was straight off Broadway.

Pointing fingers with false indignance.

Pretending that someone was holding him back

even though there was no one there.

Not even a slight headwind.

But this one played the part.

Looked down around his chest as if 

a ghost was holding him back.

And he said he wanted to go.

With this giant fat fucker who was also a friend.

Over this girl who neither of them were getting with.

Yet there we were.

Standing out in the middle of the street past midnight.

It was absurd.

And this one said he wanted to go,

because he knew I would protect him.

Make sure nothing happened and that I’d step in

if anything ever really did so that he had carte blanche 

to shoot his mouth off. 

And I was still young and stupid and loyal.

I would eventually learn, but no one fought 

that night.

Not over this girl,

not anything.

Saving his ass from yet another beating.

So he could play the big man 

and look good in front of this other girl 

who is now his wife.

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage.  His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly,The Rye Whiskey Review, Outlaw Poetry Network, Under The Bleachers, The Dope Fiend Daily and In Between Hangovers.

Moving Violation by Rémy Boucher

I watched the sunset upon the water.

I didn't concern myself with anyone's problems.

And the sun rose the following day.

Never worry yourself into an early grave.

Allow death to find you at your own pace.

Rémy Boucher, resides in Québec and has been published in The Shadowlands Magazine, The Black Shamrock Magazine, The Dope Fiend Daily.

Gone Is The Romance. By John Patrick Robbins

She was a train wreck , and I seldom avoided anyone for their flaws.

A crazy woman and a good cocktail go hand in hand.

Sanity and relationships should never be mentioned, unless you are the type that is whipped by what you can easily find in another.

She believed I would care if she departed. 

And I wasn't afraid to break it to her.

I was far from an actor in some cheesy off Broadway production.

She bounced like a basketball, I drank like a fish and didn't shed a single tear.

When dealing with a real person always remember this.

I never claimed to be nice, just as I never called it anything more than a fling.

Complain all you want and don't let that doorknob hit you in that perfect round ass.

Have a nice day.

John Patrick Robbins; Is the editor in chief of the Rye Whiskey Review , Under The Bleachers, Drinkers Only and The Black Shamrock Magazine.

His work has been published here at the Dope Fiend Daily, San Pedro River Review, Ariel Chart, Crossroads Magazine , Punk Noir Magazine, Red Fez and The Blue Nib.

He is also the author of Sex Drugs & Poetry from Whiskey City Press. Once Upon A Nervous Breakdown from Soma Publishing.

His newest is published under his pen name.

If Walls Could Speak Mine Would Blush from Syndicate Press.

His work is always unfiltered.