From your throne in my chest
you rearrange me like Pangaea;
thrusting apart long-established boundaries,
violently forming callused mountain ranges,
gauging wide new rivers from which I flow.
shifted by collision from the inside out,
one continent is toppled by another
and I'm left with nothing to stand on.
toxic geysers pipe into my system
and I endure the havoc you wreak,
waiting for the quakes to subside.
I awake to find that, in my own skin,
I'm in a place no less foreign than Venus,
and no less welcoming than home.