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