dangling wires

The world has receded. The distance between where I reside and what surrounds me has grown and it all comes in as echos. I respond hours to days later when the sender no longer is on the line and no longer cares and likely doesn't remember. The air is thick and viscous and resists my every motion emotion demotion locomotion in search of some concoction to shut it off like if I close my eyes long and hard enough maybe I'll open them to a sensible self that seems more like the flesh instead of stuffed mumbling animal shells. Sometimes I swear I see the strings and the hand on the handle. I'm tangled in the dangling wires of my disconnect