On Animal needs

Echo is missing something. Or is it someone? Echo does not know, and does not need to know, let alone care or ponder the question. Asking is futile - as is the answer itself . Echo misses a construct; a thing that, right now, just exists in their mind.
It starts scratching the surface of Echos consciousness once everything else deemed more important lies dormant. It starts creeping into the center of their attention when nothing of substance is thought of - but then, the thought imposes itself as something of substance.
Once Echo starts falling into their world of dreams, just before they are met by darkness, Echo can feel it. They can feel the the need for human, physical, touch; weak at times, but impossibly strong elsewhen.

Then they long for a firm voice, originating in the off, telling them, everything is okay; telling them to stop doing whatever, and come relax; giving their shoulders and neck a thoughtful yet firm squeeze, unmistakable in its intent.

No further questions, answers, comments, speeches - just the pure, raw behaviour of two animals. Two bodies building a nest for the night, the dominant one wrapping around, protecting - Echo warming the other.
Lying close, feeling every movement and breath; cuddling up like a cat in a basket - perfectly natural and driven by forces not interpreted by the higher levels of conscious attention.

Maybe nothing happens as the bodies fall towards oblivion; maybe an urge to touch the wrist Echo lies upon with their forehead, like a cat, smelling or kissing it leads to a thoughtless and speechless act of sex; maybe just to a small adjustment in posture; bites, whips, pain, blood, bliss, heat - or just a smell; no words, no thoughts, just dao, zen, pure self-ness, unaware of the self, perfectly in moment.

Connection beyond words, beyond social complications, beyond behavioural contracts.
Echo misses this. Echo knows not where or how to get it. Until then, Echo rolls around sleepless in yet more nights that teach them about the power of needs, imagination, and momentary loneliness.
Echo finally drifts away into their ever dreamless oblivion called sleep - awaiting tomorrow evenings' unavoidable mental ritual until sleep is met...