“People on the NYC subway today were staring,” the H.R. Giger sculpture on my desk seemed to be saying. “Why are people staring? Can’t they see I’m covered in eyes? Can’t they see that they are also covered in eyes? If they had eyes they would see that I am their eyes, and that I am staring, too. If they were me they’d be staring, and if I were them they’d be staring. Can’t they see? Can’t they see it?”
Its sockets were cranking open and shut on a slow time loop, as if it were the bearer of some terrible truth. People, I thought, seeing the full implications of this truth, would get the most horrible look on their faces.
Yeah, we’ve all experienced the Eyes.
Whomst thou seekst, butch?
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