Pain by Steve Bolin


By: Steve Bolin

It starts unconsciously, subtle and unnoticed.

A pinpoint prick works its way under my skin.

It creeps slowly, with the patience of eternity.

Unease stirs within like a cauldron of turmoil.

The discomfort arrives and begins to grow.

The spark ignites, fueled by fear and apprehension.

A flame is born, insatiably hungry and consuming.

It quells inside, building with a slow and steady pace.

Thereís no reason or explanation; the cause is irrelevant.

All that matters is the radiating ache, infecting, spreading.

Its malevolence corrupts all it touches in a contagious epidemic.

Rot and decay permeate the air with a mephitic odor.

An uncontrollable spasm surges along muscles and joints.

It transforms into a venomous sting, poisoning all it touches.

The agony accelerates exponentially, churning and boiling.

Unyielding fear grips as misery mutates into torment.

Pain beyond imagination explodes with monstrous intent.

Itís murderously passionate, an unquenchable aberration.

No relief is adequate; no remedy will cure this morbid paroxysm.

My sanity is ominously devoured without reservation.

Lava displaces blood, turbulent streams of fiery wrath flow now.

Suffering is personified, sowing seeds of malignant plague.

Shadow and darkness slithers behind me with haunting unease.

Hysterical insanity insidiously gnaws through my rationality.

Gruesome perversions and foul iniquity pull me hell-ward.

An intense miasma of swirling evil brings its black profanities.

A shapeless, unholy form invades me, saturating all that I am.

Nightmarish phantasms shriek a cacophonous song of anguish.

A cataclysmic maelstrom forms a nexus of torment inside me.

Searing, scalding heat possesses me; we are fused, inseparable.

Here exists infinite horror, unending incineration and cruelty.

I am a universe unto myself, a dimension of unadulterated pain.

The graveís inky shadow eludes me, obliterating all hope.

The threshold of death is unreachable, denying any escape.

Thereís no disputing my metamorphosis; it is completed.

I am now pain, pain is now I; we are one forevermore.

About the Author

A life long resident of Indiana and full time writer, Steve Bolin has previously published poetry and short stories in, "Black Petals," and "Dark Moon Rising."
To obtain copies of Mr. Bolin's recently released book, "Black Rising," please go
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Copyright © 2007 The World of Myth All Rights Reserved

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