As I faintly despise
all the amber glow
in the eyes around me,
I credit myself
for the restraint
exhibited in not gauging forth
fingers in the vanguard.
Penetrating my shield
with stares as razor sharp
as any blade
you may have raked a poor debutante's neck with,
the eyes grow nearer to my own
then shoot away to gleaming faints
like those of a cat caught in a neighborhood game of flashlight tag.
For a moment I cannot take the gaze
and shrink back within myself.
Then in a burst of confidence
usually associated with massive liquor consumption,
I fire back a stare of my own.
The eyes upon me don't blink,
they refuse to.
Instead, they grow more red, and liquid.
I fear all that is mine
can be seen by these hideous watchers.
I scream any obscenity that would make a nun shit
and the eyes remain fixed.
They cannot hear me,
they merely see!
Disguises and table manners are easy
Listen to my voice one and all!