The Somnambulist Manifesto or what I've been writing since my laptop went down the shitter

The following is an excerpt from this thing I've been working on while under the constraints of my macbook. Bear with me.

PART I: RUNNING COLORS, LOSING SLEEP

“I'm not paying attention to any of the words you're saying; not a single sentence, line or syllable. Caught in the stillness of the moment, all I have ahead of me is the shade of the color you breathe; floating off into the sunset and drowning itself in the very heart of these amber city streets. (It's the taste of you, love- I miss it.) Hours have since gotten longer and the sun, she shines no brighter for me; merely ringing as sweet as you once were on the tip of my tongue. All I can hear is the taste of the color you breathe; the romance of falling in love amidst the noise of our compounded dissonance, the tender feeling of your warmth on my frayed senses. Don't get me wrong, love. Please don't get me wrong. It's not the drugs I've been taking. I'm as sober as I could possibly be. All I'm high on is the scarcity of time and presence; choking from the lack thereof. Solely with the notion of space in abundance, only the tiniest part of your being remains in me; in this I let her speak, she speaks to me in depth. Whispered like a choir of muted angels, I still couldn't hear a thing you're saying. All I hear is the color you breathe; the tiniest part of you. It's the part of you I miss.”

- Dearest September

“...and pieces of my heart fall in the wake of every

step I take; our vessels set sail in dreaming.”

We've said it time and again, we'll live and love in dead trajectory; bending over backwards in the vastness of our individual phenomenologies, drifting endlessly in the spaces we leave behind. In all our hearts' restlessness, I have never been at ease as I have been, nurturing the memory of how your hands opened up to meet mine; all those months ago, miles away from where we stand now. My heart has never skipped a beat. It was in small hands that I sought serenity that was mine to uncover and yours to endure; shifting with the swelling tide, only to be buried beneath the full weight of the waves that were to envelop us. Adrift in the wash of the oceans of distance and tears, these subtle heartbeats sound the same; roaring with the burden of the day's looming overcast. Drowned out and tear-soaked, however; my heartbeats sound the same. They yearn for you in loss and they shun you in their pain.

With the healthiest part of a wounded heart, the wayfarer in me sets sail; past the threshold of sleep and dreaming to every waking part of consciousness. Today, your colors run.