She walks the hall 
Down to his room
With blondish screams 
And steady croons
Twisting bated breath
And it will all be over
Under the door 
The salt of sweat
The shaking legs
And grind of 
Bound and gagged
His love is a glossy cover
 [bad word] 
She sees his blinding silhouette
Smash the wall and the window sill
Against her back this suffering town
The air raid sirens are winding down

The screams through the vents
The pounding walls
Stains on her breath              
From the alcohol     
His careless smile
And rough tongue
Take her [bad word] her slot
And kill the [bad word] burned skin
And slurring sight
The fashion’s taken in
Her senses falter

She croons      
Soft into the pillow
The glow of the t.v.
In room nineteen
Sore as the [bad word] On her knees, and “no”
“This is not how I dream”
Broken veins and dirty clothes
“I’ll take my mistakes”
“I think I want to go home”

The air raid sirens
Are winding down