Those glittering eyes, that warped smile
and voice like a cold, dusty tomb,
they make me want to run a mile;

around them i can sense my doom
call out to me, drawing me back,
back to some grim-lit torture room

where sanity must twist and crack
and never after be mended;
where in dim shadows, dread and black

lie terror and spite distended,
their hunger sharp, lascivious;
where salvation's hopes are ended

and left to rot, oblivious
of any future chance of life.
Those eyes, that smile: insidious,

they are, warm like a surgeon's knife,
and as welcoming as a scream,
or the buzz of a hornets' hive:

they haunt my every waking dream.
As friendly as a crocodile,
his evil impulse reigns supreme.

MP 4-51124

Not dedicated to anybody at all. No sir, no-one. That i've posted it today of all days is just coincidence. Honest.