Poetry, notes, and drawings by William Michaelian
Ohwhen you give me the slinky eyemy fear expandsand my skin shrinks backbetween your metal lash
In that case, may I have it back now?
Nah...I like my skin shrinkin'
I guess this is what they mean when they say, “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
That eye kills me...jet black...skulking over, hooded like the grim reaper. There is nothing else in the portrait, but that eye. Is everyone else blind?
Of course! But only to the extent that we can’t see.
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