heard it all before.

don't stare at me while you're sitting so close, i can feel your breath quiver. i know you can't give this girl a damn thing on her to-do list; i'd rather turn to the ice in my glass.

and every morning we open our eyes wide to expecting, to rubbing something out onto this moist skin. sun rise, it's just the same. it's every last coin in your hand and two placed over the eyes.

and every night, lids close on mediocrity, on to nothing accomplished.

there's no sense of urgency, and your jaw is locked in the same fashion, not a word in edgewise.

so take it or leave it, make a decision for once, for twice, for leaving it all behind just to make a point, just to open up wider.

somewhere between the curve of your neck and the small parts in your hair, there's a scream awaiting massacre.