The Man With The Soft Eyes (night)

The Man With The Soft Eyes (night)

The man with the Soft eyes is here again.
They gleam through the shadows,
blue oceans swirling in nightsable.
While the world stands still in his frozen stare,
He dances below my window.
I hear him in the forests occasionally
Whistling a howlish tune, screams
of fleeting songbirds' echoes.
Our eyes met under the streetlight
He was all smiles, vomit and gruel dripping
down down down his smooth chin.
They say he makes children out of men.
Perhaps that's why he always grins.
The Man With The Soft Eyes is here again.