A short Halloween poem, more clever than brilliant. Less macabre than creepy. But perhaps something to mark the season.
  
     
  
  When She Couldn’t Leave Stockholm
I saw,
an eye saw
It’s my nature that, I soar with every eye sore.
Through the crowded room,
   
Caught Her Eyes
I caught her eyes,
I cauterise the eyes she threw.
 
Watching the youth in her eyes,
Watching me euthanise.
 
Oh torments bred,
Open upon a floor dyeing red,
Lay books dying to be read.
 
In my surgery,
Among the surge and hurry,
Leaving a coat of waste,
Upon my waistcoat.
 
Running among mist reams,
Failing to hear missed screams.
 
Sins never to be forgiven,
Fleeing unbidden.
Fearfully meeting stares,
Upon meat eating stairs.
 
A scrap lace of forgotten,
remaining out of place.