| Peeping Tom He's there. But you won't catch a glimpse. He's played this game so long. He sees you. He watches you. Its no more than a sick game to him. You turn your head hoping to steal a glance. Nothing. You feel his presence, it envelopes you. Leaving you feeling dirty and used. Violated. Quickly you cover yourself. Blinds shut. Funs over for tonight. Written by John Lane Schultz March 30, 2001 |