my rationality is a house drenched in gasoline --
my emotions are a handful of stricken matches --
i hold them delicately between my fingers,
try to wave out the flames,
blow them out one by one --
but the embers catch on the curtains.
the house goes up in flames;
it burns to the ground;
the ash scars the earth and i can't breathe again --

and why stop there?
why burn down a single house when i'd devour a whole village if you asked?
my emotions can be dynamite; they're a nuclear blast;
set me off and watch the world turn to dust
i'm doing it for you
my flames are engulfing the planet
for you
they're my reactions to the small things;
they're the clench of my jaw when you send short texts,
they're the shaking of my fingers when your shoulders don't curve around mine
the conclusion of my analysis on your body decides whether or not the world will go to sleep in bursts of red and orange

my spine is in a pool at my feet;
my frame has melted and my heart is on the loose
smoke is slithering down my throat
i'm sorry i am the way i am --
i'm sorry i'm clumsy with fire;
i'm sorry this house was built with popsicle sticks;
i'm sorry that it's so easy to watch me burn