Ghosts
J
john tiong chunghoo
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ghost, when it is around
you are in his eyes, his eyelids
flip over you and every flip
shuttles you between
his realm and yours
a black hole of the unknown
envelops you and drives
waves of fear that eddy to
the edge of the universe
an ocean of hair rises
to the occasion while
every of your pores
nudges you about
the pesence of the invisible
and cold company
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