we are

ancient rome.

our love

is an empire,

but it's built

on a volcano

destined to

explode.

our ending is already

predicted

in plaster cast bodies

drowning in dust.

and i keep telling myself

that we'll make it out alive

but even if we do,

i'm still gonna end up with

pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.

We sat in the doctor's office. The doctor looked at us with a straight face and said,

"You have pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis."

"What?!" I said not knowing what the **** he was talking about.

"You have pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis." The doctor repeated.

"Is it serious?" I asked.

"It's incurable, you are going to die." the doctor continued obviously not knowing

what the term "Bedside manner" means.

"What!?" I said again.

"There's no cure. We will try to make you comfortable in the time you have remaining?" The doctor went on.

"What!?" I repeated completely in shock.

"You should probably get your affairs in order." the doctor said finally.

"How long do I have?" I begged.

"It's hard to say, maybe a decade or 2, Maybe less" The doctor answered.

"What!?" I responded.

My darling, you are a volcano

Bright, fiery and noticeable

But you also erupt and explode

It's always when I'm nearby

The air and ash get into my lungs

And I'm told I have pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis

That's okay

I guess I'll return to dust

There I go

to mechanic

for my wheel

being empty

Pump it,

do it pneumo

Yes

But mono only,

one.

Da.

Be careful, careful

ultramicroscopic

Ja

And no silicon

from any

volcano.

Oui.

And get rid

of your smell

from onions

mouth

Sure

Now receipt me give you what you will do.

He did.

pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis

one

till tomorrow