My little death...

With a grain of sand or salt? Maybe if I chew it apart then I could understand the meaning in mangled bites. There is so much I could say but it might take me too long. Its 0245 as I start to write this post. Does my geographical placement dictate where I am? I have too much running thorough my head. I die a little when I hear your voice and then have to say goodbye. I don't know anything.
There is a place in my mind where nothing can touch me. There I feel nothing for anyone and I cannot ever be hurt. In that place fire sits frozen on top of candles and ice melts to steam in a heart beat. Sand is turned to glass and windows turn to dust. Diamonds shatter from the pressure in that place. There is no poetry or music not beauty or sunshine its a void. Being in that place is like being in a sarcophagus fashioned from time its self and set at the bottom of the ocean. Its lonely there and very uncomfortable but I find my self going there at the strangest times and I think for some reason I am trying to get comfortable in the last place I should ever want to be. In that place the thing I find I don't have here is humanity. There is no sound to disturb my blissful silence. I cannot hear the water around me. There is no steady drone of a heart with a hole in it. The pathetic wheezing of lungs that are too small is strangely absent. I don't hear the buzz of a nervous system that is damaged from knees to toes and fingers to elbows. I am flawless in this place where no one resides, not even me. I think that it is possible to give up in this place and never return back to reality. To walk among the living a drone of what ever though graces the chunks of meat inside that bone case on my shoulders. Peering out of my eyes like some commander on a submarine deep beneath the surface seeking another target. That place when I write about from here seem like the kind of place I should give up on and never go back.
If someone has ever looked into your eyes and cried because of what they saw you and I might be the same
If you have broken all the Noahide laws before you felt the stain of humanity you and I might be able to talk
If your own heart beat makes you sick with its whining tap against your rib cage you and I might think alike
If you have ever wished your body looked as decrepit as your soul feels you might be in a place I once was
If you have such intense rage that it can change the temperature of a room then maybe we should compare notes
I am in this alone aren't I