fiction, non-fiction, and the whatevers in between

creations of the great bum somewhere. imagined, written, read and posted. literary stuff.

[astaleimpasse]

if all the world comes crashing down.. and fever dreams just take you around.. just stay right there, make no sound.. stay right there.. in the here and the now..

come closer.. just stay close.. let me just touch your nose.. if all i can do, is hold you here.. that won't matter, have no fear..

even your silhouette's a sight for sore eyes.. just one look, everything vanishes.. just one look, drives me to tears..

[astaleimpasse]

when that heart was born, it was given a piece of paper. the heart read that piece of paper and saw a number. it asked what this meant. the doctor said it was the number of lub-dubs you'll beat in your lifetime. so, the count started when it was born.

the heartbeats were slow and steady. but, sometimes, when the heart's not in the mood or feeling down and blue, it makes the beating real fast just so it could end its torment. it skips its beat for fun. and holds its breath when it wishes to make time stop. it exposes itself to beatings and thrills. memories and faces stay inside its cavities.

the heart blackens and decays. but, it continues on counting. it dreads the number, but is brave enough to continue on.

[astaleimpasse]

don't think i've forgotten what this day means for us.

and it's raining, how apt.

[astaleimpasse]

City light tears

We've talked about hating the place for so long. It's no fun living there. Granted there's good food. Ravioli lobster was legit. I still can't understand it. You're loving it now. I still don't. Seeing the city's star lights as we land. It's home. It is really. I'd wish you're still here though. Like really. Accomplish those goals and come back. To me.

[astaleimpasse]

tap to snooze

there is the wake up. the opening of the eyes. slowly. seeing the brightness. the blur. then the slight movement of the arms. then the hands. touching the walls. the cold walls. the white walls. the body shifts. and the hands feel the cover. the blankets are cool. the ac has done its job. the pillows are soft. and the eyes start to close back. you feel for your phone. where is it? you slept with it and now it is hidden under the covers. you hear birds chirping. and the meow of a cat digging through the garbage bags outside. eventually, you find your phone. open one eye. a good morning message. emails of what transpired at work while you slept. notifications of friends you follow. application updates. and the alarm goes off. you realize you woke up before the alarm. and you kill it, desperately. to stop the buzzing. you sit up. yawn. the day has started. 

[astaleimpasse]

on meditation

i put everything on mute. i squat on the couch. i'm on a meditative pose. i close my eyes. i feel and sense each breath. the inhales. the exhales. the lub-dubs of my heart. i sense all of their irregularities. i wonder if this is normal. i feel my mind pulsating. probably the caffeine. or fatigue. the pose is eerily relaxing. i need more of this, i think. then my mind wanders to the vibrations of the building. to the cars' wheels and the cars' horns on the highway. to the sudden breaks and stops as if pedestrians were getting rowdy again. a plane passes by over head dividing the sky. i imagine a child looking out the window. seeing the night lights. seeing the city glimmer below. then my phone vibrates. probably an email or a message. my mind then wanders to work. all the unfinished tasks. all the conversations to be had. i open my eyes. still on the pose, i see a lizard staring at me. it's probably curious. not sure. or probably some mosquitoes were all over me, and the little bugger wants to gobble them all up. i also stare at it. i sense the fear. my fear. the relaxed state all gone, now my mind's alert. i hate slimy things. and the lizard has the look of going yolo, taking advantage of me not moving. doing the pose. then slither all over my skin. a minute or two passes. and the lizard goes in the other direction. i breathe again. now, my feet's all numb. blood not circulating. probably trapped somewhere. damn pipes. i end the meditation. i stand up. and go on.  

[astaleimpasse]

on photographs

come on. take that photo. find the angle. the lighting. make sure to capture the blemishes. the pores. the wrinkles. the beauty. the ugliness. the grit. the wear and tear of life. make sure to accentuate those scars. those scars that carry the weight of a million judgments. when you look closely you'll see a reflection of yourself in those scars, not in the eyes. never the eyes. when you do look in the eyes though, look inside. look for the soul. capture it also. it should be there somewhere. sometimes it hides. try to capture that realness. that genuine beauty. otherwise, it's just make believe. a soul hiding in the corners that shows you a mask for everyone to see. you see a fake and you'll never ever be special when you see a fake. catch every strand of hair. every splits. every dyed or undyed. the shine and smooth and silk and shimmer will always astound. take it now. capture it. and at last, when you click and take that pic. in that split of a second flash. never close your eyes. never ever blink.

[astaleimpasse]

the darkening

first comes a darkening of the eyes. as if you see red. blood all over. splattered on the floor. the knife's in your hands. everything else becomes blurry. you're hungry for something. you can't really fill it with food. its the butchering. the cutting of the pieces. the joints are everywhere. and all you see is that porcelain skin. the caresses. every little thing. not ants. not gnats. the earrings and the earlobes are all over. and you just can't stop shaking. you're hair all matted. sticking to your head. covering the eyes. and you wonder. how to get out. how to walk away. or is it the want for every one to see. to know your monstrosity. you fill the mug with coffee. and read the news. it's the breakfast of sorts. walk out the door. drive your car. and the thoughts of rage and anger and dark, becomes blurred by the trees and the cars and the birds that you pass by.

[astaleimpasse]

i shudder as i wipe your tear. my hands shake as i stroke your hair. when you rest your head upon my shoulders, my bones cry in disbelief. doubt and resentment cover all of me. and my structure’s crumbling to mediocrity. you share and i tear apart. as i answer back with false opinions, my...

[astaleimpasse]

it's worries not being there that worries me...

[astaleimpasse]

of good nights and sleeping

my eyes droop and begin to see swirls and twirls. the world begins to tremble and everything i'll see, you'll see. we'll share every inch of the dreaming. we walk on the clouds of memories. the bed becomes an earthquake. the floor becomes wet of what seems to be tears of joy. i shake and you'll hold me close. i let you see what's inside of me. what i am truly. i am the monster. the beast. the animal. and you accept that wholeheartedly. the dream becomes hazy. and we see trees and leaves and autumn sadness. and we walk the pavements, the streets of concrete. we have smiles in our faces. nothing worries us. we won't care. we have each other. we won't dare. the dream becomes hazy. we sit side by side. hands intertwined. we look straight ahead into a future we share. and it is everything. we grasp. we pull. we push. the dream's a blur. and we are walking into the moon, through all holes of cheesy goodness. bicycles and all. stars and comets flying all over the place. lights blinking. and everything is ours for the taking. your hands on mine. smiling that smile of yours. and i close my eyes. and dream some more. reality and the dreaming becoming one. all true, just me and you. 

[astaleimpasse]

when you use up all your creativity just to make that one person smile or laugh or light up or swoon over..

[astaleimpasse]

bliss

let me wake up right next to you. where the world is filled with hugs and warmth and kisses. i can hear your beautiful words and whispers and laughter. i can touch your skin and hair and cheeks. you are as sublime as one can be. dreams are never as beautiful as rememberings of memories. i will wake up right next to you. and everything will once again be whole and clear and bliss.

[astaleimpasse]

untitled pt. 4

love is suffering through all those fits of laughter and tears. looking at stars in longings and yearnings. remembrances of features you know all too well and still don't know enough of. love is the feeling of those hands holding you tight. holding on to the voice at the ends of every call. the imaginings of words wrapped up into corny lines. it is tasting every food, good or bad, shared with each others company. the movies watched with someone's shoulder to lean on to. the conversations and the tellings of each other's past, hoping against hope that the other sees through all the craziness and scars, sees you for who you are. it is the walk on crowded streets and pavements, crowded beaches and malls, and seeing only two sets of footprints. it is the few caresses. it is the utterings of i-love-you's you can't get enough of because it can never show the extent of what you truly feel. it is the meetings of eye to eye and seeing things truly for what they are. it is appreciation and unplucked flowers and uncaged birds. it is the inhales after very long sighs. it is all this and more. real happiness because, at last, it is being shared.

[astaleimpasse]

your hand on mine

you held me then and i felt elated. i was unsure and sure at the same time. everything else was a blur. i guess it had something to do with the alcohol. but, most of it was because of those hands. it took away all my worries. it warmed me up inside. it was better than any game i've ever played, better than any movie i've ever watched, better than any book i've ever read. those hands were better than all of them combined. this was what started it all. i miss those hands on mine. i miss you. 

[astaleimpasse]

the thief

let me tell you about that one time you held my hand and whispered softly how two became one at the nick of time. let me breathe into your heart with tender thoughts of make believe and dreams. how you'll sleep when i sleep. how you'll creep into my arms and snuggle there as long as it takes. let me tell you how i wish that time would stop and everything else just slips by without anything or anyone distracting our obsessions. its easier to dream of unrealities. to slip outside the covers of the world. to tell you how wishes and words become a river of ideas flowing endlessly. how you steal away my creativity. 

[astaleimpasse]

night night

listen to the night's noise as it screeches its way towards your ears and through your imagination, you feel compelled to shrink away under the soles of your feet. hide beneath it like an ostrich hides its head under the ground. beneath the covers, you shiver and shake. all the while, thinking it would satisfy the need to unhear the already heard noise. tickling your imagination of monsters and dark slithering creatures. you take a peek though and see the mirror in your peripheral vision. you close your eyes, wishing to unsee it. your mind's eye imagines the different things it can reflect. or the different things it can inhabit. you hide away once more. time stands still when you're in the state of make believe.