Mr.pain,pain,love,hope,permission,clear,clear cut
A man of no shame
clear-cut
prim and proper
suited in black and adjusting his red tie
grin smeared across his face
like chocolate on a childs mouth who insists, “mommy I wasn’t in the cookie jar!”
except this man smears the chocolate on purpose
and insists, “You owe me a pound of flesh,
and there’s only one way to pay it; pain.”
He never fails to show behind the freindly ‘ding-dong’ of the door bell
clear-cut
prim and proper
suited in black
to slap you on the cheeks
for good measure
“Oh, but wait,
there’s more!” He tells you
he steps through the door
neverminding to wipe the shit off his shoes
before stepping off the welcome mat you placed
known as the smile on your face
which is where the phrase, “I feel like shit” comes from
and he finds his new home in your mind.
He’s what you expect pain to be;
a surprise in disguise
that lingers around for a while
like an unexpected guest who sleeps naked on your couch
leaves hair in your shower
and drinks from the milk jug
and you tell him, “Make yourself at home”
by making fish hooks of your fingers
to hook each side of your cheeks
stretching them in order to force a smile
for the people who ask, “Are you ok?”
You say, “I’m fine.”
But inside your complex little mind
Mister Pain stands
perfect posture
breif case open, torture instruments spread out
held in a stain free canvas
doing his best to make things worse.
A broken heart requires a knife to the spinal cord
needle to the cerebellum; punishment for a forced smile
all the while picking apart the frontal lobe with plyers
ruining any control you may have left of your impulses.
But eventually Mister Pain will get bored
and someone else will show at your door to take his place.
Strength shows up, muscles announced behind his white wife beater
he tells you, “It will be ok, stay strong.”
Hope comes to vaccuum the crumbs
and maybe she even brings along a brand new couch and a jug of fresh milk.
Happiness barges in wagging her finger at Mister Pain
telling him to, “Get lost, it’s my turn!”
And sometimes even Love blesses you with her presence
rings your door bell
and she won’t blame you for believeing it’s Mister Pain in disguise
once again
but she’s too beautiful to be pain.
And she even wipes her shoes on the welcome mat before she askes your permission
to come inside.