Apartment 333- Therapist

If you wanted privacy,
you might have closed your blinds from time to time.
If you wanted intimacy,
You should have shut your windows.
If you wanted security,
You would have locked your doors.

The devil doesn't knock upon entry.
He knows where he's wanted.

I've heard your conversations.
The bigotry.
The loathing.

I've sucked up the sin seeping through your floorboards.

I've tasted your wasted love as it
swirled down the drain,
seasoned with misspent tears...

I've stepped through the hillocks of cigarette butts
you discard as carelessly as you do your dreams...
a little measure to meld your
environment with your outlook:
The world as an ashcan.

I know you better than I'd ever know myself,
because my appraisal is realistic.
Not tainted by pride or egotism.
Not laced with self-pity.

I know that you wanted this,
in spite of your pained cries to the contrary.
I know you really wept for the innocence
you lost long before I let myself into your loins.

You let the world in-
you offered yourself with impunity for far too long.
You valued your life so little
as to put it on display for anyone's appraisal.

You were waiting on catastrophe
to prove your life was worth saving...

I was the instrument.

I took nothing that wasn't proffered by your unlocked door.

Your home and your body share sentiments...
I simply took the welcome mat at it's word.