It was the middle of December and you made sure to turn on your fan before you went to sleep.

It was the beginning of January and I suddenly understood why you kept your fan on as 'I love you' rolled out of your mouth like the smoke that loomed over Pompeii. You choking on your own words was a red flag. I guess the smoke was too thick for me to notice.

It was February and the lava began scorching my fingertips with each muffled 'I love you.’ Some people tried to run, I chose to melt to death.

It was March and I was hoping you were only cauterizing my wounds, protecting me from something more harmful. I was wrong. Nothing is more harmful than a natural disaster.

It was April and you had cremated me to ash. I realized your false ‘I love you’s were what caused the tectonic plates to shift.

It is May and I am still reminiscing on January.

In June I hope the fan in your room keeps you cool enough from the volcano that you are.

my blood boils over the edge as every word
that spills from your lips is volcanic ash piercing my skin
and how is one supposed to stay calm
when my life has been spent bottling up
way more than I can hold,
this routine is getting old.
I can't take the constant trembling of my upper lip
and quivering of my limbs
I'm not too sure how long I can hold this in.
I take two steps back and inhale deep
but it's still not enough to help me
rid of these demons that won't let me sleep.
Every ******* waking moment
is spent fighting a war I didn't sign up for.
I was involuntarily shipped out
to surroundings unknown and places unseen
in my mind is only chaos and blatant disorder.
So **** the fact I can't think clear enough
to jot down the words exploding from my mind,
but I have a right to explode...
I have kept my cool for far too long.
My mental stability will be revolutionized,
I have the right to do so.