A face so creased in a mesh of the after dream,
That urine stained the bed,
It was like an xxx movie turned inside out.
It was like a monologue, that when spoken sounded like the end of a song.
A night long hatred played for amusement,
Hysteria recorded for the pleasure of men,
The morbid curiosity of roadkill baby-doll.
Her mascara battered face painted lightly in a mesh of bones and tendons.