The deer stuck in those headlights got nothing on me. Let them hit so the frustration will cease.
Like the flicker of the fluorescence above me, I'm trying to restart and repair to no avail.
Don't want to wash the bedsheets as I'm to scared to loose your smell, yet I want the bed to burn to ambers.
Routinely the cup of tea on the kitchen side goes stale, reminding me of our existence.
Shattered china on the floor and tea stains on the walls is more appropriate.