dolor (pain)

I want it to be over don't I?
this delicious private pain I cause myself

Once so attractively seductive.
Punishment, Pain, Control, Despair
The four horsemen

stirring up my belly, flying forth from my mouth

Their swords covered in my blood
Their silent tiny wounds only I can perceive
Did they win?
Is there an enemy besides myself?

Pain, the best anesthesia
self-absorbed, thinking only of itself
Get lost in this pain, this Dolor
you created him
has he usurped his creator?

He whispers, insidious and provocative:
I am important, comforting
only me!
was there ever something more worthy to

I am a jumble, a fractured prism
reflecting, confusing, refracting
It is so easy

The seductive one
all encompassing
he taunts me, beckons me
Only in Dolor is there clarity
he erases all else
giddy - I am coming!

I can control him, my creation
all else irritates, hurts and confuses me
not him
Dolor cuts off outer feelings
floating, I cannot focus or fight

The beauty!
of condensing all confusion and chaos into this one thing
the cunning Dolor that I can grasp
the simplicity of only one evil
one foe that is so often my friend

He strokes me and cuddles with me and lets me hold him
My creation that needs my nurturance and protection
So dear to me
At once smaller and larger than me
Hide you from the world so they cannot harm you
Hide you so no one sees as you take my power for yourself

A fascinating trap
An ingenious maze
the perfect self-constructed self-destruction
No one else can see him
and what mother could reject her own child?
wanting it to end, holding fast to what you control

Such perfection!
Such Dolor

*Quema: the Spanish word for fire, burning

Andrea Smeltzer, 18
© Andrea Smeltzer, 1998. All Rights reserved