The pain monster screams.
Air so heavy and void of light
drowns the noise
Silence louder than the gray jackhammer drilling gray thoughts in the grey matter.
This is night.
This is also dawn and midday and dusk,
and somewhere between the latter and former-most,
this is the infomercials no one sees or cares about,
three easy payments of 19.99,
except the pain monster.
The monster sees these and cares,
prime time for screaming,
Dateline News airtime for pain.
Exclusive 60 minutes broadcast from the cacophonous construction site-
What a sight.
Only here, can only be heard here, come one come all,
come witness that which exceeds the limits of reason and logic and capacity of the human mind and laws of sound and hearing and screaming.
The pain monster silently screams and cries from its unseen cage,
evading notice by colleagues, family, friends,
and those who were formerly so.
How lucky any one is who has not met the monster face to face.
Because there is no easy payment plan,
nothing to quell the pain monster's appetite-
a strict diet of screams that must be consumed constantly,
diametric-but-not noise and silence,
every moment, every day,
for so long you forget who's doing the consuming-
You have been consumed by the pain monster and the only way out is ...
Copyright Becca Doss 2015
I intend to eventually gather my poems (old and new, Lyme-related and non-Lyme-related, but all from my heart and inspired by my life experiences) and include them here, where they can be read. Stay tuned!