Lava is
Boiling in my spirit under my skin
I am hot to the touch
Fissures burst from me sporadically
Steam rising off of me at all times
I do not know when I will erupt
One more wrong word
One last questioning of my feelings
One new attempt to invalidate
Lava everywhere killing everything in its path
The relief to let it flow freely
The remorse burned away
It is brutalizing on the inside
It destroys anything on the outside
But it crusts over
Slowly
It takes a long time to cool
Now there is ash
Over everything
Lungs pulling deeply
No fresh air
Never-ending threat
Will I die because now I cannot breathe
How long until something new
Grows from this magma
It will
But how long
There is vivid imagery in this poem. One doesn’t know what will set off the next explosion. I kind of like the end at “magma.” the emphasis has been the lava flow and volcanic activity. I don’t want to consider the last two lines at all. For this reader, they diminish the poem. I don’t want to think about new growth. I’m still reveling in the explosion.