Mr. Blue

Mr Blue is a friend of mine,
But Mr Blue is not kind.
Mr Blue can see you now
Reading words and writing down
Your thoughts, comments, fine critiques,
Mr Blue makes houses squeak.
He listens to you describe your day,
Each and every word you say.
A madness in his eyes, a fire.
And sickly wet teeth in his mouth of mire.
He can see you drink.
He can see you spew.
He can see you poop.
He can see you screw.
But watching is and never was
The dark task of this man of faux pas.
He'll grind your teeth in mortar bowl.
He flay your skin and remove limbs whole.
Unless his verse is passed on by victim
He'll get to you, this is dictum.
And next time sleep comes for you
So also will Mr Blue.

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