Lava bridge

You wont find me where other hearts dwell, expecting the regurgitated plagiarism of unoriginal mechanical. The socially engineered definitions of love, soft tender, nothings, soap bubbles that capture light for a split second before they explode.
Mine will be subtle violence, creeping lava of a placid volcano, I boil in the belly of the mountain whilst they all obliviously engage in the mundane, until the time arrives and I explode with poetic dominance, and without rush, burn anything in my path. I’ll set villages alight and leave nothing breathing, but you’ll always know I was here, ash bound remnants of my volatility.
I’ll cleanse the soil and fertilise it anew for love of the organic kind to blossom once more.

-W.E.