belly full of lead

Contents of stomach as documented on November 15th, 2010:

Barbed wire, Molten lava (as previously mentioned), A living "Frankenstein's monster" of song lyrics ranging from "good music" to the shittiest soft-rock-radio love songs one could possibly imagine, Snakes, Snails, Puppy dog tails, Cigarette butts, Misadventures, An arrangement of musky natural smells, Some assortment of heavy rocks and boulders, An anthology of vivid dreams I am still trying to digest, maybe a cherry of of vivid memories I am trying, dying to digest, Bits of my nails I have been biting off and an electric heating pad.

If that's not cause for constipation I just don't know what is anymore.

swallowed a volcano

I understand that by 'heart broken' people place an emotion to a metaphysical symbol, that is really technically an organ.

I understand if I was really heart broken I might consider being hospitalized.

Lately it's felt like you live your life to meet people and fall in love with them. I have had many loves.

Brief to not-so-brief. Spicy to mild, cream and sugar to black and bitter. Once I was in love with a movie star, once I was in love with my seventeen year old camp counselor, Caitlin.
You meet someone and they find almost instantly exactly where they fit in you. If they can't find a space, sometimes they make one or sometimes you move space for them and they crawl their way into you. Sometimes you can feel them, the way they fill you or even hollow you out.

These days, I feel like I've swallowed a volcano; you pried open my mouth and I swallowed an active volcano. The lava molts over and turns into hard rock, every few days the pressure from my rib cage when I sleep or the sight of a boy on a bike or a place where we have been or the thought of us fucking makes my internal temperature rise. The lava reactivates and fills my stomach and chest with burnt orange rivers.

I try to speak, but my heart beats so hard it fans the volcano and all that comes up is smoke and ash.