Death of the Senses

I don't remember when or how or why I lost my appetite.

It must have been any other ordinary day that I woke up to my own burping. Like the universe, I come into existence with a sound and a mixture of pungent smelling gases. I was dreaming of food, deliciously spread before my dreamy eyes, waiting for someone to devour it.
Out of sheer habit, I proceeded to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. As I poured forth the ingredients into a saucepan, I mildly wondered why I want to drink tea and not something else. Did i dream about tea while I was asleep? That is the problem with my dreams, I am unable to remember them once I wake up.

Why do I dream and when do I dream? I can vaguely say i fantasize about beauty in various ugly shapes and sizes, and sometimes just before passing away into the realm of the unconscious, I dream about the things I had been doing just before that.

Was I eating before I fell asleep? I didn't wake up to ants licking the corner of my eyes or bread crumbs adorning my garment's texture. Yet I dreamt of food that night, food in the form of an old lover, whose essence remains in a formless state. I cant remember how she looked, i believe my memory failed the night i lost my appetite. Did I lose my appetite while i slept? Or did I wake up to this listlessness?

I asked my mother for breakfast, not knowing why I wanted to eat. I wasn't feeling a muscular constriction in my abdomen, or an abrupt contraction of any part of the alimentary canal. My tongue was moist, i drank water when i my lips felt too dry or my throat was parched. The desire to eat was almost a Pavlovian reflex. There are certain times of the day when I must have food. If I don't, its like something is missing from my life. Like a schizophrenic lover who inhabits your bedroom for years without speaking a word or by mistaking you for some one else. Or more accurately, the void that you feel when he or she is not there. You can't recollect how his or ehr presence might help to better your life, but you feel uneasy with the void that is suddenly created. Suddenly you find you have the entire bed to yourself. You can do anything want on it, put the lights on for the whole night, read poetry or pretend to be King Lear. You carry on like this, till one day your gaze accidentally brushes past the garlanded picture of that lover. You stop and wonder for a moment what necessity you feel for love at all.