Jack just wants to sleep. He wants to sleep and never leave his bed or the room he lives in within a mysterious mansion on Chicago's Logan Boulevard. But, when events force him to wander, his fragile psyche and questionable memory turns a simple journey out of his room into a nightmarish odyssey, all within the confines of his labyrinthine house. It's a nightmare Jack navigates with half-opened eyes, believing his eyes harness the destructive power of black holes. Jack's tale may not be a haunted house story, but when all's said and done, the house on Logan Boulevard will be haunted-that is, if it can survive Jack's opened eyes. MY EYES ARE BLACK HOLES is a book of madness, drawing the reader into its sticky web of tangled logic, false memory, hallucination, and violence. This is a tale that leaves readers with questions and tests perspective in ways similar to a David Lynch film. Questions create mystery. Mystery creates madness. And madness is maddening.