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Void.
Empty.
Nakedness.
Nothingness.
No colour.
No sound.
No touch.
No smell.
He yearns to touch, to be touched. Deprived of another, he runs his own hands over his face; feeling features he cannot remember. Touches arms filled with strength he has no memory of building. Smooth skinned chest and stomach - no memory of filling this with food. Narrow waist, firm buttocks. An odd raised line over one hip. He cups the soft organs below, smiles at the pleasant sensation. Mourns a ghosting sensation of other unrecalled pleasures. Strokes firm thighs, down long legs that have no history before this place. Dances around toes, bringing other sensations of pleasure.
There is nothing but himself.
No one but himself.
He curls in upon himself, gathers his limbs to his own embrace.
Finds comfort in his own arms.
The world slows… stops… and fades.
Artwork by the very talented Karen
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