To throw out of a suburban window.

She lays in broken glass screaming.
Ripping flesh off her face and beating her mussels until
they're black and blue.

A confluence stand in circles looking at her spastic patterns and flailing arms and legs.  
Gossiping and looking down on her as if she doesn't matter, buttoning up their garments and pulling at themselves in discomfort.  
Eyes glance toward him above her.

They cannot understand this woeful defenestrated movement,
but it doesn't keep them from sucking it all in without question.
It gives them equanimity to see others more in distress then they are.

He disappears from the window and sits stagnant in cold sweat.
He's numb, and he's unsure if he feels regret.

She lays there still, her face is unrecognizable.
Her justice won't be payed.
He'll be in a penitentiary, she'll be in an asylum, and they'll be leading their little suburban lives.