Retreat

It's a draining cycle. Endorphins are no longer released, although the body has grown accustomed to their consistent flow. Weeks go by and the source has been eliminated along with sensation. Muscles are locked in an expressionless state. Eyes settle, half closed. Teeth grip one another in a tight combination of bone against gum and tongue. Sleep has become the investigation. Waiting for answers to unravel themselves like the strands of dog hair that came tumbling off your sweater. Long after the sun has risen and the alarm has grown tired of moaning, there is a consciousnesses of nothing. There are no strings that will guide, there are no hands that will hold, the scent on the pillow is unfamiliar. All of these thoughts grind the feet back into the ground and they walk. One by one, heavy step after step, imprinting the earth in its deliberately slow pace.  There's no need to rush anymore. Thinking alone used to be a great privilege but now he finds it a burden. He rolls over.