have you ever felt so angry
that it was almost like magma
was hiding at the back of your throat?

pulsing and glowing and taking its time
before it erupts and dribbles down your chin,
flowing to your shoes and destroying
everything you've ever held close.

because lately, i've been postponing my eruption with these desperate words;

paper against fire
ink against magma

feeble stoppers to a bottle brimming to the mouth with froth, pressure building up and up and up—

crack goes the glass

paper against fire
ink against magma

sometimes they hold up
sometimes they just aren't enough.