detaching

my body crashes silently in the midnight car,
exposed,
and organized in a vulnerable way:
arms splayed and knees touching.
the sound of my body breaking
screams your name.
it radiates desperation, greed and sorrow.
the atmosphere in the car is hyper-real.
i feel more alive than i do
at any given waking moment.
i feel connected to the universe,
yet detached from social interaction
and what it means to be human:
probably because i no longer am.
i have ripped apart my pre-frontal cortex
and thrown it away,
allowing the lower brain regions
to take control.
my heart says no.

we need to be in each others lives,
we just haven't figured out how to do that yet.

but it's my broken body's only concern.