Sizing me up for the kill

Insomniac. Third time this week you won't sleep a wink. Previous lifes demanding the time you've lost trying to cope with the fact you haven't lived and, surprise, surprise, you still haven't.
D'you lack the guts? D'you lack the fangs? Are you without any sense of self-respect?
Nah.
It's just you don't find it worth, you do not compromise within. Within is where lie you nude. The proposition is: take your time, and you scatter around.
Find a blister, scratch, that's all you got after all. And never, ever, you'll be on track again. Never smoothly.
Discreet.
At least, you've found the word.