picture face...

I see you constantly staring, those beady eyes seem to be fixated-in on one spot, the same spot, and it never changes. The melons which are ever encoded with blues, greens and browns are covered by a white glaze, I become hungry-only to realize I would blinde you for a taste. Those freckles make me want to play connect the dots with my knife, an carve away at what is left of you, only to re-create a master piece. It makes me twist my head ever so slightly to the right, waiting for the right moment to make my move...