T-Eye is my snowman.
He isn’t very tall
He barely reaches past my knee.
He has no mouth at all.
His eyes are small tomatoes.
His nose is made of pepper.
His arms are made of rotten twigs
You’d think he was a leper.
But T-Eye is a bastard.
A sneaky bastard, too.
When you’re asleep, he comes to life
And creeps inside to you.
He sits his icy buttocks
Upon your sleeping face
And smothers you in coldness
Til you meet with death’s embrace