One creative soul of magma,

growing one year a minute,

stuck in an old iron refridgerator with a door welded shut,

power full tilt,

trapped five miles under the surface of our world and buried in an abandoned

uranium mine.

A soul cooling and pressing the edges of its existence

against unmovable barriers

that are ironically always moving on a micro level,

with the ability of pure language

and the inability to speak.